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O'er Oceans and Continents 

WITH THE SETTING SUN 



BY 

FISCAR MARISON /r^^^L. 



THIRD SERIES 

JERUSALEM, PALESTINE IN BEDOUIN GARB, SYRIA AND 
THE ISLANDS OF THE MEDITERRANEAN, 
SMYRNA, CONSTANTINOPLE, 
ATHENS, CORFU * 




CHICAGO 
AUTHOR'S EDITION 



Copyright, 1909 
By GEO. J. BLATTER- 



All Rights Reserved 



A 






b 



r\ 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

FEB 15 1909 

Copyrignt Enb 



uopyngm entry _ 
m.ASS OC- XXc N( 



R. R. DONNELLEY & SONS COMPANY 
CHICAGO 



PREFACE. 

For this third series of "O'er Oceans" the 
author kindly requests a continuance of the good 
will which he met with in the publication of the 
first and second series. It is issued for the same 
purpose: to herald and promote the first English 
translation of the great Spanish work, a Ciudad de 
Dios." 

Fiscar Marison. 
331 91ST Street, Chicago. 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Page 
Constantinople from the Cemetery Frontispiece s 

Mount Moria, Jerusalem 

In Arab Costume 

Nazareth .... 

Entrance — The Holy Sepulchre - 

Tarsus ..... 

St. Sophia .... 

Panorama of Athens and Eleusis 

The Acropolis 

Ruins of Olympia . 



• 


28 .• 


• 


47' 


• 


73 r 


Interior 


119 /• 


• 


146 ^ 


• 


174^ 


• 


203 ^ 


• 


213 < 


• • 


213 



CHAPTER I. 

A Neat Piece of Smugglery — Ancient Jaffa — 
Up Judea's Mountains to Jerusalem — At the 
Austrian Hospice — Moonlight Wanderings — 
An Hour at Gethsemane on Holy Thursday. 

Having embarked on the steamer Thalia at Port Said, 
we arose early next day, the Thursday of Holy Week, in 
order to catch the first glimpse of the most sacred land 
in all Christendom. The rays of the morning sun 
blazed a wide pathway of glinting gold on the rippling 
waves to the darker outlines of buildings and minarets of 
ancient Jaffa, that rose on high bluffs over the blue 
waters of the Mediterranean. 

The steamer anchored in the deep water about a 
quarter of a mile from the rocky shore, and in a mo- 
ment the horde of carriers had surrounded the ship in 
their boats and were climbing over the sides. Cook's 
agent, who was dressed in a Turkish uniform, had 
also boarded the ship with a bevy of carriers and boat- 
men to get his share of the spoils. I determined to 
trust myself into his hands, and see what he could do for 
me in my attempt to smuggle myself into Turkish terri- 
tory without a vise. But another set of fiends had already 
snatched our handbags. While I set about recovering 
them from their hands by main force, I suddenly stood 
face to face with Mr. Wiltzius, of Milwaukee, who was 
having a similar scramble. Of course we had a hearty 
handshake, and he immediately decided to join us in 
Cook's boat. So, with a score of other passengers, we 
were soon approaching the dangerous rocks that jut out 
of the waters near the shore. Our stout Turk, who had 

ii 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

taken us in charge as Cook's agent in Jaffa, demanded 
our papers. He returned my American passport with 
the remark that it was not sufficient, and that I would 
have trouble at landing. We were now approaching 
the only opening between the broken rocks near the 
shore. Huge waves were rolling against them, and if 
the boatmen should allow the boat to swerve only a few 
feet to one side or the other, we would be dashed to 
pieces on their jagged edges. But they knew their 
business, and shot us through the passage on the crest of 
a wave, landing us safely at the pier of the custom-house. 
Our stout Turk simply pushed his way past the Turkish 
soldiers and custom officials, through a dark gateway, 
beckoning us all to follow. I was wondering where we 
would be stopped for our passports; but when we 
issued on one of the lively streets to Jaffa, I under- 
stood that our rotund guide had railroaded us through 
the whole crowd of venal officials by that open sesame 
of Turkish regime: bakshish. Well, it was a real 
service, and I scored it up in favor of Cook's agency. 

From a distance at sea, Jaffa looks like a well-built 
city on the summit of wave-beaten cliffs. But when 
you pass through the narrow, ruinous streets, and see the 
hovels half buried in the wastes of thousands of years, 
you quickly change your opinion. The upper bazaars, 
and some few streets neighboring to them, show some 
signs of modern improvement and regard for cleanliness. 
They are full of life, and you will find people of all nations 
mixed up with the swarming Turks and Arabs. For 
those who are charitably inclined, it is better to procure 
some of the small coins, paras and metaliques, in order to 
satisfy the numerous demands of the beggars and bak- 
shish hunters. We had made up our minds to stay for 
dinner in the Franciscan hospice, one of the oldest build- 
ings in Jaffa and overlooking the beach. A brother 
showed us to Simon the Tanner's house, where St. Peter 

12 



To Jerusalem. 



saw the clean and unclean animals which he was com- 
manded to eat let down from heaven in a cloth. Through 
this vision he was instructed to receive the heathen cen- 
turion into the church, who was already waiting at the 
door of the house. A small mosque, very bare and dirty, 
stands on the place. The old man that had charge of it 
wanted us to take off our shoes ; but as our shoes were 
much cleaner than the mosque we refused to undergo 
that trouble. There was nothing inside that we could 
not see from the door. It is of course only the traditional 
spot where Simon's house used to stand ; for the house 
itself has disappeared long ago. 

We came very near missing the afternoon train to 
Jerusalem by the blundering of Cook's agents that had 
charge of our baggage. Happily Mr. Wiltzius had 
bought tickets for us before we came. The train at first 
winds through the plains of Sharon, where the German 
Templars have planted some beautiful orange groves ; 
but only for a few miles from Jaffa: beyond that the 
land is not much cultivated. The plows used by some 
of the natives on the fields were only two sticks of wood 
tied together at right angles. Cows or oxen are hitched 
to the free end of one stick. The plowman holds the 
upper end of the other stick and presses on the lower end 
slightly scratching the soil. After an hour or so we 
passed Ramleh, one of the larger villages along the 
railroad, where the old tower of Ramleh is visible from 
the train. Lydda comes next, which is the birthplace of 
St. George, and must have been quite a town formerly. 

The progress of the train became still slower when we 
began to reach the mountains of Judea. They are a 
rocky desert, for the most part barren and treeless ; yet 
wherever sheer necessity of procuring sustenance induced 
the natives to cover the rocky ledges with ground, and 
irrigate the sunburnt hillside, they were abundantly re- 
warded. Most of the time the train goes no faster than 

13 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

a walk. Such a pace would soon drive all traffic from an 
American railroad, but it seems to do very well in Pales- 
tine. Though the distance is only ninety kilometers or 
fifty-two miles, it took the train five hours to reach 
Jerusalem. The terminal station is outside the walls, 
southwest of the city. The different new establish- 
ments and settlements bid fair to become the most pop- 
ulous portion of the historic Jerusalem. Among the 
many establishments outside the city there are now quite 
a number of Catholic ones, such as the German hospice, 
the convent of Notre Dame, the Creche of the Sisters 
of Charity, St. Peter's Institute of P. Ratisbon for boys, 
St. Stephen's church and Dominican monastery, and 
the Assumptionists' hospice. We hired a carriage in 
order to be brought to Cook's office at the Jaffa gate. 
There I received a batch of welcome letters from home, 
reassuring me that all was well and prosperous. There 
are no wagon roads in Jerusalem, and therefore in 
order to reach the Austrian hospice, which was recom- 
mended by Mr. Wiltzius, it was necessary to pass again 
through the Jaffa gate on the road, which runs paral- 
lel to and outside of the west walls to the Damascus 
gate. Re-entering the city, we were soon hospitably 
quartered in the Austrian hospice. 

I had made some plans of my own in regard to the use 
of the time after supper. I wanted to spend a part of the 
evening of Holy Thursday alone in the garden of Geth- 
semane, where our Saviour had begun his passion on the 
same night nineteen centuries ago. Perhaps the same 
beautiful moonlight filled the narrow streets and the val- 
ley of the Kedron when he so sorrowfully wended his way 
with the Apostles to the lonely garden. But my desire 
of being alone on this excursion was doomed to disap- 
pointment. I had hoped to be able to give my room- 
mates the slip without being obliged to explain ; but Mr. 
Wiltzius urged me to go with him to Casa Nova, the 

14 



A Moonlight Walk. 



Franciscan hospice, where he said we would meet Fathers 
V. H. and B. I thought this was a fine chance to steal a 
march on them, and I tried to induce him and my other 
companion to hunt up those two gentlemen without my 
company. But they would not be put off so easily as 
that. I had to reveal my intention of visiting Gethsem- 
ane, and then Mr. Wiltzius simply proposed to go with 
me. As for my other companion, who was so hard of 
hearing, he immediately suspected me of trying to shake 
him off for good, and leave him henceforth to shift for 
himself. It is needless to say that such a thought never 
entered my mind. I had given my promise to conduct 
him to Vienna, and nothing short of impossibility would 
ever have induced me to leave that promise unfulfilled. 
The trouble and annoyance caused by his infirmity, and 
his suspicions which are consequent upon it, were some- 
times very great, as can easily be imagined. Of course 
after so much of my intended excursion had become 
known, there was nothing else to do than to invite my 
companions to join me. 

There had been so much talk of the danger of passing 
alone through the streets of Jerusalem and the territory 
outside the walls, that the others insisted on taking along 
Ali, the kawass of the hospice. I had intended to go 
alone: now there was even a Mussulman in the party. 
The four of us sauntered through the narrow street 
leading to St. Stephen's gate, through the Turkish 
cemeteries, down to the torrent of Kedron, and over the 
stone bridge across it to the garden of Gethsemane. Its 
high stone walls, only a few paces from the Kedron, 
gleamed white in the moonlight, and the dark foliage of 
the olive trees that overtopped the walls were not stirred 
by even a breath of wind. To one side the rocky decliv- 
ities of Mount Moria crowned by the spectral city walls, 
and on the other, the stony heights of Olivet guarded the 
intervening valley of Josaphat. Through this valley 

15 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

trickles the brook Kedron, downward to the Hill of Bad 
Council and Hinom Vale. What a sacred stillness 
reigned here on this night in these holy places! The 
silvery flood of moonlight lay poured out over hill and 
valley, over crumbling walls and dark olive trees, and over 
the gleaming rocks. Arriving at the low portal of the 
enclosure of Gethsemane, we saw several dark forms of 
persons crouched on the ledge of white rocks before the 
gate, seemingly on the same errand as we ourselves. 
The Franciscans are in possession of a part of the old 
garden of Gethsemane, and we expected some kind of 
divine service in it on Holy Thursday. So much the 
greater was our surprise to find the portals closely barred 
and our knocks remain unanswered. The rocks in 
front of the gate, mark the spot where the three Apostles 
fell asleep during the agony. About two or three hun- 
dred feet from the garden walls is the grotto, or rather 
the large cave, which is said to have been the scene of 
the bloody sweat of the Lord. As we were not familiar 
with the surroundings on our first night in Jerusalem, 
we did not visit the grotto until some days after. It may 
be that the Catholics had services there on that night ; but 
we saw nobody going that way. 

While we were contemplating the scenes around us, 
we noticed some people straggling slowly up the moun- 
tain along the road, and very soon we heard the mournful 
strains of a song, now and then interrupted by spoken 
words. Curiosity led us in the direction of the sounds, 
and we came upon about a score of people, very well 
dressed. They were standing on a ledge of the mountain 
listening to a Protestant preacher, who was reading St. 
John's account of this night's occurrences two thousand 
years ago. He seemed to be very solemn and sincere in 
his rendering of the passages, and the little band of pious 
souls sang with much affection and devoutness. Though 
it was only a Protestant service, the solemnity of the 

16 



Protestant Devotion. 



place and time no doubt was favorable to the workings 
of God's grace in the hearts of the participants. Those 
whom circumstances have deprived of the sunlight of 
true Catholic doctrine do well not to reject the pale 
glimmers of heresy for their devotion. We left these 
devout persons in order to meditate for a while near the 
entrance of the garden, and then returned across the 
Kedron, climbing up to the right around the city walls, to 
the Damascus gate on the other side of the city. Darkly 
the old walls and the crumbling battelments of Jerusalem 
rose, casting ghost-like yet well-defined shadows on the 
rocky, moonlit ground to our left. Xor did the Turkish 
sentinels that still watch the gates of Jerusalem deem it 
worth while to leave their dark recesses or molest us, as 
we passed under the vast arches of the Damascus gate. 
Only a short distance inside the walls, on a road branch- 
ing off to the left, we soon regained our rooms in the 
Austrian hospice, and betook ourselves to our first 
night's rest in the Holy City. 



17 



CHAPTER II. 

Good Friday on Golgotha — A Gathering From 
all Christendom — Turkish Coin, a Perpetuated 
Fraud — In the Footsteps of the Savior — "His 
Tomb Shall be Glorious." 

Getting up early next morning we hastened on our way 
to the church of the Holy Sepulchre in order to take part 
in the service of Good Friday. Those parts of the church 
which belong to the Catholics are in charge of the Fran- 
ciscans, who have been the guardians of the holy places 
in Palestine since the thirteenth century. Hence they 
also conducted the Latin services. 

The church of the Holy Sepulchre on feast days will 
probably be a sad disappointment to the unwary stranger. 
In his own country he associates with the celebration of 
a feast in a Christian church, a solemn silence, devout 
postures of the people, and heart-stirring music. Here he 
will meet very little of all these. He will find the church 
of the Holy Sepulchre filled with motley crowds from all 
nations and climes, and belonging to different religions. 
At his very entrance his eyes encounter a guard of Turk- 
ish soldiers, lying or sitting on a raised platform, to the 
left and inside of the portals. They laugh and talk and 
gape at the passing crowds, even smoking their nargilehs. 
More of these Turkish soldiers fully armed, he will after- 
wards meet in all parts of the church, ready to interfere 
at any disturbance with their weapons. Then he will 
probably have to push his way through surging crowds of 
Russian, French, German, Austrian, and English pilgrims, 
and the adherents of the Greek, Coptic, Armenian 
schisms, who fill the spacious recesses and naves of the 

19 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

church. He can witness the services of the Latins, Greeks, 
Copts, and Armenians at stated hours of the day, some- 
times at the Holy Sepulchre, sometimes at the chapels or 
altars belonging exclusively to each of these religions in 
different portions of the temple. Indescribable con- 
fusion often reigns, loud voices resound, songs of one 
language mingle with those of another. Now and then 
is heard the dull thud of the staff of a kawass, making 
way for some procession, or the clangor of arms, separat- 
ing clashing factions. 

It is providential that the almost impartial Turk, 
(impartial at least as long as the flow of bakshish is 
not lessened), has control of the holiest place on earth. 
Under present partial ownership of the church, among 
so many nations and factions, divine worship without 
this control would no doubt become entirely impossible 
on account of continued quarrels. 

I took part in the Missa Praesanctificorum in com- 
pany with the Franciscans and a goodly number of pil- 
grim priests. The robed and surpliced priests moved 
in procession past the Holy Sepulchre from the Latin 
sacristy up the stairs to mount Calvary in another part 
of the church. The exact spot where the Cross stood 
is in the hands of the Greek popes, and their fanaticism 
prevented any services being held on that altar. Imme- 
diately aside of it is the altar of the crucifixion — the spot 
on which Jesus was nailed to the Cross — and this is in 
possession of the Latin monks. The usual ceremonies 
of Good Friday took place according to the Latin rite. 
But the singing of the orations and lessons, and of the 
Passion was considerably mixed with Italian variations, 
which detracted a great deal from the beauty and the 
grandeur of the Gregorian chant. The solemn kissing 
of the large crucifix, which lay on the exact spot where 
the Son of God was nailed to the Cross, was performed 
by the priests, the nuns of the different convents, and 

20 



On Golgotha. 



by such of the pilgrims as were fortunate enough to be 
able to approach. These ceremonies, which typify the 
reality enacted on this spot, could not but deeply im- 
press the beholder. Passing out of the ancient portals 
of the church into the square court or piazza, which is 
paved with large flagstones and surrounded by half- 
ruinous buildings, we had to take care not to step on the 
heaps of devotional articles exposed for sale in every 
direction. Near these gaudy piles of merchandise sat 
the venders and hawkers of different nationalties — Jews, 
Arabs, Armenians, Greeks, and Turks. In fact all the 
streets in the neighborhood are only a continuation of 
this motley bazaar. They charge what they can get, and 
seem to do thriving business. Buyers are always safer 
in offering about half of the price first asked. Money 
changers, brooding over their wire-screened boxes, sit 
around on ever}' corner, ready to change your gold or 
foreign money into small Turkish currency. They take 
care to charge you enough for the exchange. 

French or English silver or gold will serve very well 
for large payments of purchases, though even these are 
accepted only at a discount ; but for daily use you must 
have Turkish money. This Turkish money is a grand 
scheme of larceny from the Sultan's throne down to the 
lowest beggar on the streets. Turkish money has differ- 
ent values according to the person you are dealing with, 
and according to the circumstances of the transaction. 
In dealing with the government its value is least; the 
wholesaler will accept it at a less value than the retailer, 
and the retailer will shrewdly gauge the value of the 
money he gets for his goods by the gullibility of the pur- 
chaser. Moreover, the same money has different values 
in different towns of Turkey. In its denominations it is 
the most illogical in existence. In Jerusalem, a medjid, 
which is a piece of silver about the size of our dollar, is 
equal to twenty-five piastres, each one of these is equal 

21 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

to nine metaliques and one kabach, one metalique is 
equal to four kabaches and two and a half paras. All 
below the ruba-medjid, or quarter of a medjid, is of a 
base alloy of copper and nickel, worth about one-hun- 
dredth of the face value. A bishlik is a thin piece of 
alloy an inch and a quarter in diameter, worth three 
piastres. As soon as you get outside of Jerusalem you 
will have to study a new table of values for your money. 
In fact you will find that your money changes its value 
as often as you leave the neighborhood of any consider- 
able town in this land of bakshish and fraud. 

After services we paid a visit to Casa Nova, and saw 
there our former fellow-travelers, Revs. B. and V. H. 
They had made a flying trip through India while Rev. 
S. and Mr. H. had gone direct from Colombo to Brindisi. 
The former two were to leave on the next day ; they had 
been only two weeks in Palestine, and had not made the 
trip to Nazareth or other points in Galilee. 

The dinner at the Austrian hospice was always a 
lengthy affair. To us it seemed unbearable, and very 
often we left the table before the others were half through. 
I suppose the slow and easy-going Austrians thought it 
rather strange. They indulged in great honneurs, w T hen 
the Austrian consul came to dine. 

In the afternoon of Good Friday the pilgrims and the 
resident Catholics turned out in great numbers to make 
the Way of the Cross on the Via Dolorosa publicly under 
the leadership of the Franciscans. At each station one 
of the Fathers, who wore a long, flowing beard, preached 
in French. The first station, where Jesus was con- 
demned to death, is within a paved court, hemmed in 
by the walls of an old church and other buildings now 
used as barracks. The second, where Jesus took upon 
Himself the cross, is on the other side of the street, a little 
to the east of this court, where the Ecce Homo arch is 
built into the convent of the Ratisbon Sisters. The 

22 



The Sorrowful Way. 



third, the first fall under the Cross, is on the same street 
in the united Armenian chapel. Adjoining the Austrian 
hospice, on a fork of the road, is the fourth station, the 
meeting of Jesus and Mary. The station of Simon is at 
the intersection of a road leading up to the church of the 
Holy Sepulchre; and that of Veronica is somewhat up 
the hill on this road, just before coming to the walls of the 
old city. 

Going farther up the same road, beneath the maze 
of a dark, arched passage, on the other side of the 
ancient gateway, is the seventh station, the second fall 
of Jesus under the Cross. Within a Greek convent is the 
spot where the holy women stood weeping ; it is marked 
by a cross in the outside wall of the convent bordering 
the street. The ninth, the third fall, is between the 
walls of the convent and the walls of the church of the 
Holy Sepulchre. The station of the despoiling of the 
garments is inside the church of the Holy Sepulchre, at 
the head of the stairs of the Latin chapel of the cruci- 
fixion. Only ten steps farther on, in the same chapel, 
Jesus was nailed to the cross, the spot being marked by 
a mosaic cross on the floor, which we had venerated that 
morning. The twelfth, the death of Jesus, is at the 
Greek altar of this chapel. The spot where Jesus died 
on His Cross belongs to the Greek monks, and is adorned 
by a magnificent bronze crucifix. It must be understood 
that the two altars, the Latin and the Greek, stand side 
by side in this chapel of the crucifixion on Mt. Gol- 
gotha. Between them is a space of about four feet. 
Near by, a statue of the Mater Dolorosa marks the thir- 
teenth station. The fourteenth station, the burial of 
Jesus, is of course downstairs on the main floor inside 
the Holy Sepulchre. 

Following the lead of the Franciscans, a multitude 
of earnest worshippers from all parts of the globe made 
the sorrowful Way. The whole courtyard of Pilate and 

23 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

the adjoining streets were filled with devout pilgrims, 
listening to the short exhortation and joining in the pub- 
lic prayers. The procession grew larger as it moved on 
from station to station. All were visibly moved and 
hesitated not to kneel in the filthy streets and join the 
responses. Conspicuous near the white-bearded Fran- 
ciscan was always the tall and stout figure of Father V. H. 
seemingly more moved than the rest. The church was 
much too small for the crowds, and only a few could 
reach the last four stations. The services of the Latins 
on Good Friday night close with ten sermons, in ten 
different languages, held at the same time in the different 
portions of the church. During these days many colored 
lamps are lighted over the holy grave and in other parts 
of the basilica, so that the prophecy of the scriptures, 
that "his grave shall be glorious" is literally fulfilled. 



S4 



CHAPTER III. 

Bethlehem of Juda — Jaffa Gate and its Sur- 
roundings — The Cenacle — Cursed Hinom — 
Siloa's Pool in Josaphat Valley — Jealous Fa- 
natics — A Spot of Ceaseless Wailing. 

Early in the morning of Holy Saturday three of us 
were seated in a carriage on our way to Bethlehem. 
The drive to Bethlehem lasts little longer than an hour, 
and we soon alighted in the large square near the basilica 
of the Nativity. Thither we went while Mr. Wiltzius 
attended to some business at the rosary manufactories. 
The pealing of the great organ filled the church with 
gladsome strains of victory, and the Allelujas of the 
priests at the altar already announced the great triumph 
of the morrow. As we intended to visit Bethlehem more 
at leisure later we took only a cursory glance at the 
church and the caves of the Nativity. We were back in 
the city for dinner, and, having purchased Lievin's guide 
through the Holy Land, we started out on our visits to 
remarkable places in and about Jerusalem. Lievin, a 
Franciscan, has made a life-study of the holy places, 
and is by far the best and the most reliable author on 
Palestine. The Franciscans are in a position to speak 
with authority on holy places, since, as custodians, they 
are not only familiar with them, but are also likely to be 
cautious in interpreting the thousands of different tradi- 
tions which exist among the Moslems, Greeks, Arme- 
nians, and Copts about the holy places. As for Baedeck- 
er's account, it is worthless wherever it pretends to treat 
of objects or traditions dear to Catholic travelers. I 
have more than once closed Baedecker's guide-books 

25 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

with disgust. This condemnation he deserves also in 
regard to holy places in other parts of the world. 

We began our explorations at the Jaffa gate. This 
part of the city is the most frequented, for here is the 
business quarter of the Europeans inside of the walls. 
It is far from suggesting real European city life, for there 
are only a few modern buildings wedged in between old, 
crumbling walls and many native shops. 

In Jerusalem one must get used to old walls, narrow, 
dirty streets without system or order. Those that wish 
to stop at a hotel will find one or two near the Jaffa 
gate, and there they will probably get little accommoda- 
tion for much outlay. At the hospice, pilgrims find 
abundant fare, good advice, and moderate expense. 
Even if a pilgrim should not be able to pay, the monks 
would probably put up with that inconvenience, and let 
him depart in peace. Casa Nova is not far from the 
Jaffa gate, and in the immediate neighborhood of the 
principal object of interest — the church of the Holy 
Sepulchre. 

Adjoining the Jaffa gate the old towers of Phasael of 
David, and of Herod abutt on the city walls. They are 
used as Turkish barracks. In the tower of David, 
probably containing some of the oldest remaining walls 
of Jerusalem, is still shown the grated window T near its 
square top, from which David is said to have cast las- 
civious glances at Uriah's wife at her toilet in an adjoin- 
ing house. Here he is also believed to have sorrowed 
for his adulter} 7 with her, and to have composed many of 
the psalms. Passing along the street that runs south- 
east in front of these towers, we soon came upon the ex- 
tensive Armenian convents, surrounded by large gardens. 
Within them are the sites of Annas' and Caiphas' houses, 
which are now replaced by Armenian chapels. The 
same street leads up to the gate of Sion, in a lonely and 
unfrequented part of the city. A narrow lane outside 

26 



The Cenacle. 



the walls passes by the plot of ground which the German 
Emperor recently presented to the Catholics of Jeru- 
salem. 

Some rods farther on stands the Coenaculum, where 
Christ held the Last Supper. It is a complex of old 
square buildings belonging to the Moslems, who, in 
their own fashion, likewise venerate some of the holy 
places sanctified by Christ. The hall of the Last Supper 
is on even ground in the largest of the ruinous buildings, 
and some of the stone seats and pillars are still shown as 
parts of the structure at the time of Christ. The hall 
is about fifty by thirty, entirely bare. At one end of it, 
up a short stairway, is the entrance to a smaller room, 
where a few dirty Moslems were squatting. Their faces 
were turned toward a dark grating which formed one 
side of the room. Behind the grating we could distin- 
guish in the dark, a catafalque, or some such thing, 
covered with a black cloth. The ragged guardian of 
the place said that it was the tomb of David. Nobody 
believes it but the Moslems. Tombs are about the only 
things these Mussulmen venerate ; they manage to have 
a great many tombs of all sorts of celebrities scattered 
over Palestine, but most of them need as much repair, 
and are as much neglected, as the silly Turkish tradi- 
tions that they commemorate. 

Leaving the Coenaculum we pursued our way across 
rocky, neglected paths, and miserable patches of plowed 
ground, along the walls of the city and down the steep 
hill toward Siloa's pool, almost at the bottom of the valley 
of Hinom. The Kedron here issues from the Josaphat 
valley, and its dried-out bed adjoins this pool of Siloa. 
This pool is formed by an embankment across the ravine 
stowing up the water which runs through secret channels 
from the city above. The old walls and buildings, which 
formerly encompassed this pool, were excavated some 
years ago by an English archaeologist, and one of the 

V 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

buildings that came to light was an old Christian church. 
But the Moslems no sooner heard of the find than they 
claimed it as a former mosque, and they erected a small 
minaret over the restored church. The cavernous pas- 
sage running up behind the church seems to be an old 
aqueduct. 

On the slope of the opposite hill, which is a continu- 
ation of Mount Olivet, is the village of Siloam, the leper 
settlement. There the lepers of Jerusalem are quartered, 
for they are not allowed to reside in Jerusalem. They are 
governed by a sheik of their own, who distributes the 
precarious alms which they obtain from the city and 
which they beg during the day. Those that can yet 
move about are required to go begging. Numbers of 
them are seen lying in all stages of the dread disease on 
the road leading up to St. Stephen's gate, holding up their 
tin cups for alms to the passers-by. Very often I met 
these unfortunates on the road, and their pitiful moaning 
sounds yet in my ears. Some have purulent sores where 
the eyes ought to be, others have their mouth or nose 
eaten away, some hold up their horrid stumps of hands, 
from the festering flesh of which the bare bones protrude, 
others again show the ravages of leprosy on their exposed 
limbs. Most abjectly they lie along the roadside in the 
sun. 

Passers-by dread giving them alms, for as soon as they 
give to one of them, the whole crowd will begin to gather 
around him, demanding, as of right, an equal gift. They 
seem to have little regard for one's fear of infection, and 
some will purposely seek contact with the clothes or hands 
of healthy persons, probably out of a secret desire to 
make others sharers of their disease. Some Sisters of 
Charity make regular visits to Siloam in order to do what 
good they can to the unfortunate sufferers. 

In quite a roundabout way we clambered up the hill 
back to a place where the small postern gate of bab el 

28 



Jealous Fanatics. 



Mukraba pierces the city wall. Inside of this gate lies 
a large tract of waste land, covered with ruins, garbage, 
and sickly cactus plants. To our right in front of us 
stood some of the old temple walls on Mount Moria; 
to our left the Jewish quarters on Mount Sion. Having 
then reached the crumbling habitations, and the narrow, 
intricate lanes beyond this plot of waste land, we sud- 
denly came upon some high portals, beyond which we 
were surprised to see a large open ground, covered with 
grass in some parts, not unlike a neglected park. It 
certainly is a rare sight in Jerusalem to see any kind of 
vegetation, for one meets nothing but crumbling walls, 
half inhabited ruins, dirty streets, and ragged inhabitants. 
Hence we were not slow in pushing forward to enter the 
gates of this paradise. But no sooner had we attempted 
to set our foot inside than a shaggy Arab woman began 
to scream at the top of her voice. The first impulse of 
this dark fury was to rush at us, but on second thought 
she flew with disheveled hair and murderous screams 
into the arcades of the high walls to our right, and soon 
brought out a bevy of fierce Arabs, whom she harangued, 
making violent gestures towards us. We had unwittingly 
entered the Harem es Sherif , now the holy grounds of the 
Moslems, but formerly the ancient temple plateau of the 
Jews. Here on the site of the old Jewish temple stands 
the Omar mosque, which they esteem as little inferior to 
the one in Mecca, and on the southern end of the temple 
ground rises the mosque El Akseh, which is a vast 
basilica built by the crusaders on the site of Solomon's 
palaces. It would have meant nothing short of throwing 
our lives away to attempt entrance past the gathering 
crowd of fanatics. They eyed us with fierce, growing 
anger, and vented it in furious inprecation. We turned 
out of the passage, and soon came upon the Wailing Wall 
of the Jews, which had been really our objective point, 
and which we knew to be somewhere hereabout. It is a 

29 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

lonely place, where the ancient walls rise about thirty 
feet and overlook a waste of smaller ruins at their base. 

A narrow passage has been cleared from encumbering 
ruins for about forty feet at the base of the great wall, so 
that one can approach the old foundation-stones, on 
which the newer wall is reared. There they stood, 
about twenty Jewish men and women, abjectly poor, 
leaning their faces against the huge foundation-stones, 
moaning and shedding tears in their loud prayers for the 
rebuilding of the temple, and the return of long past glory. 
It is indeed an indescribably sad sight to see the descend- 
ants of that chosen people, who had received this land 
from the Almighty helplessly wailing and sighing at 
those ruined walls. Vain regrets of a stubborn race, who 
heeded not the warnings of their God and their great 
prophet Jesus Christ, in the time of their visitation! 
When will they come to consider that He whose blood 
they had called down upon their heads and upon their 
children had overlookd this very wall from the heights 
of yonder Mount Olivet, and had shed as bitter tears as 
theirs at the ruins which He foresaw, and which they 
were now bewailing? There is not any better proof of 
the truth of the Christian religion in history than the 
existence to this day of the God repudiating and God- 
repudiated race, who then foreswore their Messiah and 
now, by their wailing and vain endeavors, proclaim the 
dire fulfillment of His prophecy. It is a consolation 
to know that the other prophecy will also be fulfilled 
before the end comes; namely, that the remnants of the 
house of Israel will be gathered into the one fold of Jesus 
Christ where they belong. So let them wail out their 
prayers leaning on these old walls ; God will in time hear 
them, not in the way they now expect, but according to 
the magnitude of His mercy. 

In the crevices of this wall many nails had been driven, 
for it is their custom to bring nails and drive them into 

30 



At the Sepulchre. 



this wall in order to induce the Lord to rebuild the 
temple. Some of them held up to us tin boxes for alms for 
the restoration of the temple, or perhaps for themselves. 
Leaving this place of sorrow, we were surrounded by 
a bevy of children, in one of the narrow lanes, asking for 
bakshish. Only rapid flight will save the stranger from 
being swamped by crowds of these beggars, if he has 
been incautious enough to give alms to one of them in 
the presence of others. Towards evening, through many 
winding streets and bazaars, we foimd our way back to 
the Holy Sepulchre. Here good Father Joseph readily 
accommodated us in regard to the confession, which is 
necessary for the gaining of the indulgences of the pil- 
grimage. Afterwards we managed to worm our way 
into the interior of the Holy Sepulchre in spite of the 
immense crowds. But as the time allowed each one 
was so short as to preclude a closer inspection, I prefer 
to describe it later on. About midnight we went again 
to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in order to be present 
at the midnight services. The whole vast interior was 
gloriously illumined by the multitude of colored lamps, 
especially around the grave. If the Franciscans, who 
are mostly Italians, had adhered more strictly to ap- 
proved Gregorian chant, the solemnity of the occasion 
would have been much heightened. 

We did not stay till the end of the Resurrection sendees, 
but after an hour or so we returned through the moonlit 
streets to the hospice. 



3* 



CHAPTER IV. 

East and West in Jerusalem — On Mount Olivet — 
At the German Hospice — In Cavalcade to 
Emmaus — Nebi Samouil and Kubebe — Six 
Centuries of Franciscan Custodianship. 

I said my first Mass in the Holy Land on Easter 
day, in the Latin chapel at the altar of the column of 
the flagellation. Afterwards we strolled through the 
neglected streets between the Damascus and the New 
gate. Among the ruinous houses we found an Armenian 
chapel dedicated to St. Cyprian. 

Immediately adjoining the New gate, which is half- 
way between the Jaffa and the Damascus gate, is the 
newly built institute of the Christian Brothers for Boys ; 
outside is the convent of the Sisters of Notre Dame, a 
modern building. The porter of this convent invited us 
to enter and look at the fine chapel; the front walls, 
particularly in the sanctuary, are beautifully decorated 
with Mosaics. The settlements of different nationali- 
ties, or rather of different religious denominations, are 
in this neighborhood west of the city walls. These 
buildings for religious and charitable purposes are mostly 
of recent construction. The largest settlements are those 
of the Russians and the Catholics. The Protestant 
deaconesses conduct a hospital, and the German Tem- 
plars, a religious colony coming from Wuertemberg, have 
settled here and have large establishments. To the 
south and to the north of the city, the territory is yet free 
of settlements, but to the northeast on the summit of 
Mount Olivet, the Russians have erected a large monas- 
tery and church. A separate tower, rising 200 feet above 

33 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

the summit of the mount, commands the whole country 
far and wide. The Russian government, under the 
cloak of private enterprise of their Greek monks, has 
established its influence firmly in the whole of Palestine. 
Yearly pilgrimages from Russia are encouraged, and 
heavily subsidized by the government so as to familiarize 
thousands of the simple Russian peasants with the Holy 
Land. They return to their native country eager to see 
Russia obtain the lion's share in any future partition of 
Turkey by war. When once it shall become necessary, 
Russia will find no trouble in raising a might}' army for 
the conquest of the Holy Land. The Russian peasantry 
will rise as one man for such a crusade. Thus Russia 
shows herself by far the most shrewd and far-sighted 
among the European nations in regard to future Oriental 
spoils. 

We did not proceed much farther just then, but 
returned to the hospice in order to await the visit of Revs. 
Blockmann and Rohde from Wisconsin, who had prom- 
ised to make arrangements with us for to-morrow's trip 
to Emmaus; but after waiting a few hours in vain we 
again sallied forth, this time in an opposite direction, 
toward St. Stephen's gate. The street running past our 
hospice forms a direct thoroughfare northeast and south- 
west between the Damascus and the St. Stephen's gates. 

Xot far from the Austrian hospice on that road is the 
fine chapel of the Franciscans, erected on the spot where 
Jesus was scourged. Within the same grounds is also the 
place of the crowning with thorns. In the chapel of the 
flagellation several lamps burn continually. Connected 
with these sacred spots, in a convent near by, is also the 
novitiate of the Franciscans. Just before coming upon 
St. Stephen's gate, one meets the church of St. Anne, 
restored from the same stones of which the old church 
of the Crusaders had been built. The windows are of 
colored glass, very neatly fitted into stone frames. Under 

34 



Mount Olivet. 



the main church is the crypt, where, according to the 
revelations of Mary of Agreda, the Virgin was conceived 
without sin. It consists of several chambers with altars, 
and the original bare rocks of the caves are still seen in 
some places. The rest of the rock is veneered with 
marble. Facing the church is the pool of Bethestha, 
under the vaults of an ancient church. It now resem- 
bles a spacious underground cavern half-filled with 
water. The large buildings neighboring to the church 
are the convent and seminary of the white Fathers, 
founded by Cardinal Lavigerie for the African missions. 

One of the white-robed Fathers just then stepped out 
of the gate in order to give benediction of the Bl. Sacra- 
ment at the convent of the cloistered Carmelite Nuns on 
the summit of Mount Olivet. We gladly accepted his 
invitation to accompany him. Our way led us through 
St. Stephen's gate, down the hill to the ledge of rocks 
on which St. Stephen was stoned, and from there past 
Gethsemane up the hill. Near the summit stands the 
convent and church of the Pater Noster. They are a 
reconstruction of the buildings put up six hundred years 
ago by the Crusaders. Some of the foundation-walls 
date back even to the time of St. Helena. In fact, very 
few of the buildings and ruins commemorating noted 
places in Palestine are wdthout traces of former struct- 
ures, erected at the time of St. Helena in the fourth cen- 
tury, or at the time of the Crusades in the twelfth. Most 
of them, however, are buried many feet beneath debris 
and soil accumulations. We remained for benediction, 
and afterwards bought some mementoes from the very 
businesslike Sister that attends to the temporal affairs of 
the cloister. The others never leave the house, nor con- 
verse with anybody except through a thick, iron-spiked 
screen. 

Their church is on the spot where our Lord taught the 
Our Father. Farther down the hill is another church, 

35 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

which commemorates the place where the apostles com- 
posed the creed, each one being moved by the Holy 
Ghost to pronounce one of the articles. From these 
heights the city of Jerusalem is seen spread out before 
the view. In the foreground, on the opposite heights of 
Moria, lies the temple plateau with the mosque of Omar, 
behind these a tangled, irregular maze of low, flat-roofed 
buildings. Most of them are ruinous, and small cupolas 
rise like hummocks above the flat part of the roofs. 
For in Palestine the roofs are mostly vaulted masonry, 
without any wooden beams. From the temple enclosure 
the old city walls zigzag around right and left to the 
tower of David on Mount Zion, peering above the farther 
side of the city. The circumference of the walls cannot 
be more than three or four miles, since an hour and half 
fully suffices for a walk around the whole city. 

We returned to the hospice for supper, and afterwards 
followed the lead of Mr. Wiltzius to the German hospice 
outside the walls behind the Templar settlement. Some 
fifteen or sixteen priests from the United States were 
quartered there, being members of the German caravan 
from Cologne, making the tour of the Holy Land. Our 
intention was to make arrangements for accompanying 
the caravan to Emmaus on the morrow, the day just 
befitting such an excursion. Mr. Wiltzius, who had 
visited them that morning, got badly mixed up in his 
bearings. It was already dark as we passed through 
the Damascus gate, and instead of arriving at the German 
hospice, we came to the French consulate and to the 
Protestant hospital in another settlement. Though the 
deaconesses gave us very kind and explicit directions, 
we had great trouble to find the German hospice. 

The members of the caravan were at supper, and the 
leader of it was just giving instructions regarding next 
day's excursion. We were invited for supper, and read- 
ily obtained their consent to make the trip to Emmaus 

36 



TO KlJBEBE. 



with them. Mr. Wiltzius, however, and two of the 
priests had already become tired of Palestine life, and 
arranged to take the train back to Jaffa in the morning. 
The German hospice is an extensive building surrounded 
by fine gardens. All the guests seemed highly pleased 
with the accommodations. The only drawback they 
mentioned being the distance from the church of the 
Holy Sepulchre. The Austrian hospice, where we 
lodged, is only ten minutes' walk from that basilica, 
while Casa Nova, the Franciscan hospice, is in the 
immediate vicinity. 

On Easter Monday I said Mass in the church of St. 
Anne near Stephen's gate, on the spot where the Mother 
of God was conceived without sin. I was afraid, of 
coming too late to start out with the caravan to Emmaus, 
but we arrived at the German hospice long before the 
party could be gotten ready. Most of them were not 
out of their beds. My companion and myself happened 
to get the sorriest nags of the cavalcade, and our saddles 
were of the clumsiest. My beast had a tender mouth, 
which the barbarous bridles of the Arabs had chafed 
into a bleeding sore. Nevertheless they plodded bravely 
on with the rest, over rolling stones and rugged ravines 
on the worn bridle-paths. To call the way to Emmaus 
a road, or even a decent trail, would not enter into the 
mind of the wildest mountaineers of the United States. 
It is nothing else than a succession of loose stones, 
rough rocks, and rain-worn water-courses, left to the 
wear and tear of many centuries. The same may be 
said of the roads I traveled afterwards alone to Naplouse. 
The horses stumbled on for an hour and half until we 
reached the summit of a high hill, crowned by a small 
mosque and a minaret. The Moslems call it Nebi 
Samouil, or tomb of Samuel. Inside the bare mosque, 
under a sort of alcove, is a wooden box covered with a 
pall, which the Mohammedans venerate as the grave of 

37 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

the great prophet Samuel. The ragged, bakshish-hunt- 
ing keeper insisted on our taking off our shoes before 
entering; but most of the party were satisfied to look 
in through the door. From the top of the minaret we 
had a grand view of distant Jerusalem, Mount Olivet, 
the plains of Jericho, and the Dead Sea to the east. 
To the west glimmered the blue Mediterranean, and over 
the plains of Samaria to the northwest, the woody heights 
of Carmel intercepted the view of the seashore. 

An hour's further rugged travel brought us to the 
gates of Kubebe, or Emmaus convent. In front of them 
stood a crowd of pilgrims who had come afoot, some 
Franciscan Fathers, and, glibly conversing with them, our 
eccentric fellow-passenger of the Britannia, Mr. Clark. 

Beside the director of the caravan, we had a stout, 
Christian Turk as dragoman, whose family lived near 
the convent. He was a jolly soul, gorgeously fitted 
out in a kawass uniform. He insisted that the whole 
caravan should pay a visit to his wife and children. 
Before making a closer inspection of the convents, the 
director of the caravan also wished us to inspect the vine- 
yards and other property bought here by the " Deutsche 
Palestina Verein." The object of the Palestina So- 
ciety was to start colonies here and in some other places 
of the Holy Land. The director was full of enthusiasm, 
and tried to make us believe that Kubebe is an ideal site 
for a summer resort, and that the vineyards would bring 
large returns. They have converted the stony hillside 
into a vineyard, and planted a few fig trees; but the 
expenses have already exceeded by far the prospective 
gain. It certainly does not seem probable that they 
can induce colonists to settle here for any length of time, 
or that a summer resort will ever flourish in a rocky 
desert, without water and without shade. The Ameri- 
cans had but slight confidence in the success of the 
venture in spite of the enthusiasm of the director. So 

38 



The Franciscans. 



far the Franciscans are the only settlers. They have 
erected a spacious monastery on the foundation of an 
older one dating back to the time of the Crusaders, using 
it for a scholasticate for the education of their members. 

Our caravan and the other pilgrims partook of a 
dinner in the large refectory of the Monks. There must 
have been some two hundred at the table. After dinner 
they scattered about the gardens and under the open 
cloisters, like a crowd of picnickers. Among them 
was a grey-headed German, who caused no small diver- 
sion by imitating the cries of all sorts of animals. All 
the guests of the good Fathers seemed to enjoy themselves 
very well. Mr. Clark, the defrocked Anglican minister, 
was already very intimate with one of the unsuspecting 
fathers. After resting for a while one of the Franciscans 
conducted the visitors to the remains of the church and 
convent built in the twelfth century. The excavations 
showed that they were extensive. 

I may as well make mention of the zeal of the Fran- 
ciscans in preserving and restoring the holy places in 
Palestine. Especially in the last half century has this 
pious work made progress in numerous places of the 
Holy Land. Only those somewhat acquainted with 
the run of affairs in Turkish countries can have a proper 
estimate of the difficulties to be encountered in such an 
undertaking. The Franciscans have withstood the 
persecution of six centuries, meeting not only the cruelty 
and rapacity of the Moslems, but the ceaseless strata- 
gems of orthodox Greeks or Russians, Armenians, Copts, 
Jews, and Protestants, who pursue them with their envy 
and, by fair means or foul, try to come into possession 
of memorable places in charge of the Latins. The 
rights which the above-mentioned schismatics, heretics, 
and Turks claim in the church of the Holy Sepulchre, 
and in many other places, have been obtained entirely 
by intrigue and by confiscations, manipulated by in- 

39 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

fluential partisans in government circles. Time and 
again the Franciscans have purchased locations, only to 
see them wrested from their hands as soon as they had 
erected their buildings, or find themselves forced to pay 
the purchase price over again as new Pashas came into 
power. That mere envy or avarice is the cause of these 
outrages is evident from the foul neglect and decay 
into which many holy places are allowed to fall after 
being wrested from the Catholics. Whereas the most 
pious care and devotion is everywhere seen in the holy 
places that are in the charge of the Latins, the contrary 
is often the case with those that are in other hands. 

We asked Father Joseph, at the church of the Holy 
Sepulchre, (and he has spent there most of his life), why 
the great rotunda over the Tomb in that church was not 
kept in better repair. He told us that the Greek papas 
will not permit the Franciscans to make any repairs 
even at their own cost, and will rather let the church fall 
into ruins than co-operate with the Latins in restoring it. 
No doubt they are in hopes of obtaining sole proprietor- 
ship of the Holy Sepulchre in course of time. From all 
this it will be seen that the collections for the Holy Land, 
taken up every year all over the world, are very necessary 
and well applied. They enable the Franciscans and 
other religious orders to maintain the custody of holy 
places and reliable traditions about them. The Francis- 
cans have certainly, in a special manner, earned the 
title of custodians of the Holy Land by their pious zeal 
during six centuries. Were it not for them it is doubt- 
ful, whether any vestige would remain of most of the 
holy places in Palestine. 

Rested and well entertained, we again bestrode our 
horses and returned cityward on a different route. After 
climbing over a few hills, and following a trail over some 
fields past a ruinous village, we gained the Jaffa road. 
This is as fine a road as you would find anywhere. It 

40 



En Cavalier. 



was built for the retinue of the German Emperor, at the 
occasion of his visit four or five years ago. The same 
may be said also of the road to Jericho, to Bethlehem, 
and of the one from Haipha to Nazareth. To our left, 
as we followed the winding road to Jerusalem, we saw 
many of the foot-passengers straggling homeward from 
Emmaus over the hills and valleys. Long before we 
got to Jerusalem I suspect many of us gallant cavaliers 
were secretly wishing to exchange our chafing saddle- 
seats for the comfort of our empty chairs in the hospice. 
But not all of our spirit had as yet fled, for we made an 
attempt to gallop into Jerusalem in serried ranks of three 
abreast. However, the gallant onset ended in confusion 
long before the end of our journey, for instead of one or 
two blocks it was still nearly a mile to the hospice. 

That evening after supper I wrote seventy-five postal 
cards, as greetings to friends at home. 



41 



CHAPTER V. 

Tangled Streets — Ruins and Filth Everywhere 
— Planning a Ruse on the Bedouins — Prison- 
ers of the Holy Sepulchre — The Holy Sacri- 
fice at the Most Sacred Shrine on Earth. 

Next day I had the privilege of reading Mass on the 
altar of the crucifixion on Mount Calvary. After bid- 
ding God-speed to Mr. Wiltzius, who that morning 
started on his return to Brindisi, we strolled out the 
Damascus gate to visit the caves or quarries of Solomon. 
These caves honeycomb the whole northwestern portion 
of Jerusalem. We preferred, however, to return into 
the city, and explore the corresponding quarter above 
ground. The streets are a puzzling tangle. A number 
of them are paved with cobble-stones, the steeper 
grades are terraced. A few are twelve feet wide, 
most of the others are much narrower; only two of 
them are wide enough to permit the passage of a wagon 
or carriage for a short distance. Sometimes a few of 
the more frequented streets are swept; outside streets 
are left in dirt and filth. Bazaars are only on four 
or five streets, principally in the neighborhood of the 
Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The other streets pre- 
sent a most desolate condition. No attempt at archi- 
tectural beauty is visible, except on the new buildings of 
Europeans, of which there are not many in old Jerusalem. 
They do not indulge in front parlors in Jerusalem; the 
furniture in the houses of ordinary inhabitants are on a 
par with the outside of their habitations — a mat or two to 
lie on, a stone fireplace from which the smoke very often 
passes out through the vaulted ceiling or ruinous crevices. 

43 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

The present Jerusalem is really only a collection of old 
walls and enclosures, still standing over the many layers 
of ruins piled up twenty feet above the original soil. 

Bare, crumbling walls of old structures, without 
windows, and no visible doors, mere remnants precari- 
ously covered with a low roof, line the passages most of 
the way. Wherever a recess in the walls or an arched 
subway over the streets afford seclusion garbage and 
excrement litter the ground. This is especially the case 
where Turks or Jews inhabit. When I was told that 
cleanliness has much improved in the last ten years, I 
wondered how Jerusalem must have looked before that 
time. 

I had some difficulty in getting a teskere or vise for 
my tour to Nazareth. I intended to make this tour 
alone, and in Arab or Bedouin garb. The sun had 
tanned my features considerably;, and I was the proud 
owner of a stubby black beard; hence I thought that I 
could easily pass for an Arab sheik. Everybody main- 
tained that a single European traveler would never pass 
the gauntlet of Bedouin nomads, as he was in danger of 
being held up and robbed even of his clothes. Why not 
steal a march on these marauders in their own guise ? I 
asked. But all those to whom I mentioned my project 
thought this latter more preposterous and dangerous than 
the former, so that I had to keep it a secret until the 
time of my departure. 

During the day we completed our purchase of a large 
number of articles as presents to friends in America. The 
native dealers made, or at least pretended to make, a 
large reduction on their price in view of doing business 
with Mr. Wiltzius, by whom we had been introduced on 
a former occasion. The devotional articles, especially 
rosaries, which are manufacured here and in Bethlehem 
in great quantities, seem cheap enough, but duty on 
them in the United States is proportionately heavy. 

44 



Early Mass. 



In order to celebrate Mass on the tomb of the Saviour, 
pilgrim priests must, as a rule, take lodging over night 
with the Franciscan Fathers in the Church of the Holy 
Sepulchre itself. All the doors of the church are locked 
by the Turkish guard at a certain hour of the night. The 
inmates, that is, the Latin and the Greek Monks attached 
to the church, are then prisoners until the Church is again 
opened in the morning. The opening of the Church of 
the Holy Sepulchre costs ten francs every time, and this 
sum is to be paid to a Turkish family by the different 
religious denominations, who request the opening of the 
church. It is easily understood, that on this account 
the Franciscans are most heavily bled, for the Latin 
pilgrims, who are the most numerous, must be oftenest 
accommodated. The Latin Monks have exclusive right 
of services every day until seven o'clock, after that the 
Greeks have their turn. But the Turkish soldiers will 
not admit even a priest before eight o'clock, the time set 
for opening the church. Hence the only alternative for 
a Catholic priest, who wishes to celebrate on the tomb of 
the Saviour, is to have himself locked up with the Fran- 
ciscans over night. 

We partook of the frugal supper, and were conducted 
to the cells upstairs. Father Joseph entertained us 
with a pleasant chat until we went to sleep, happy pris- 
oners of the Holy Sepulchre. 

Early in the morning of the next day I had the hap- 
piness of celebrating Mass on the holiest and most re- 
markable spot on earth ; for which all thanks be to Him 
who rested there in death, and who rose gloriously trium- 
phant from this tomb. My companion entered with 
me into the low vault to serve my Mass, but the Francis- 
can Brother, seeing him rather unfamiliar with his duty 
as an acolyte, unceremoniously supplanted him at the 
offertory. Several women received holy communion at 
my hands through the low entrance of the Tomb. It 

45 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

was indeed a great privilege to offer up the great sacrifice 
on the very spot where the faith and hope of all Christ- 
endom was made certain. 

Practical Hints. In Jerusalem it is better to lodge in one 
of the hospices. The most convenient for those that wish to see 
something of Catholic services is the Casa Nova of the Franciscan 
or the Austrian hospice. The Brothers will also be of great 
assistance in procuring good guides, and in preventing exorbitant 
charges. The fare in these hospices is all that can be desired, and 
the remuneration asked is very moderate. Those that wish to see 
the holy places thoroughly should make a sort of outline or plan 
suited to the time of their stay, and to the amount of exertion they 
intend to undergo. Of course every one likes to take along some 
mementoes and relics of the Holy Land. For Catholics there is 
a vast assortment of rosaries, medals, crucifixes; these, blessed 
at the Holy Sepulchre and Bethlehem, will afterwards no doubt 
serve as the most valuable mementoes for their friends and them- 
selves. The real value of such mementoes is often not realized 
until one is thousands of miles from the place where they were 
perhaps hastily obtained in the excitement of sight-seeing. But 
at home they will bring back the memory of strange surroundings 
and incidents of the time and place of their purchase. 



46 







IN ARAB COSTUME 



CHAPTER VI. 

In Bedouin Garb — A Bivouac on Judean Hills — 
Roughing It — Causing a Scare — Beitin, Once 
Bethel — Panic in a Harem — Luxuries of an 
Arab Home. 

After securing a teskere through the aid of the Amer- 
ican consul, and procuring a Bedouin outfit through the 
help of Ali, our kawass of the hospice, I made prepara- 
tions to leave alone and on foot for Nazareth. As I did 
not want to listen to any more discussion, the Arab 
clothes were smuggled into the porter's room by the help 
of Ali, and after dinner I arrayed myself as a Bedouin 
sheik for the journey. The under-garment is a long, 
sleeveless cotton shirt, reaching nearly to the heels. Over 
this is thrown an upper garment of striped material, and 
somewhat like a cassock, the two front flaps of which are 
buttoned only at the neck, and are held together in the 
middle by a sash. Over all this is thrown the haik, a 
loose mantle, with openings in the sides for the arms. 
The head covering is a tarbush, consisting of a large 
square kerchief with fringed edges. It is thrown over 
the head and fastened by a rope of camel's hair; this 
hair rope passes twice around the forehead and ends in 
long tassels behind. 

As I was much sunburnt and had a black stubby 
beard, I could easily pass for a Bedouin sheik, so far as 
outward appearance was concerned. But the number of 
Arab words that I gloried in was closely allied to the 
minus. Ali did his best to enrich me. " Three words 
are sufficient," he said: " Salaam, aleikum, mafish." In 
other words; if I met any of the marauding nomads, and 

47 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

felt like being beforehand in civility, I might say: 
" salaam "; or, if they first salaamed, I might answer: 
"aleikum." But if any of that scum of the desert 
should seek to enter into conversation with such a high- 
born chief as myself, they should be told to go about 
their business with a surly: "mafish." I found after- 
wards, that this three-cornered vocabulary, with its ex- 
pressive bluff at the end, went far toward establishing 
tolerable relations between Arabia and America. 

I started out early in the afternoon, intending to reach 
Ramallah about twelve miles to the north of Jerusalem. 
My traveling companion wanted to see me off safely for 
a few miles at least. But as we left Jerusalem from 
St. Stephen's gate, which is on the east side of the city, 
we at first pursued the wrong direction. It entailed an 
unnecessary climb of Mt. Scopus on the northeast of 
Jerusalem. After an hour and a half of climbing we 
found the right trail. Near a ruined village, whence the 
last view of Jerusalem could be had, my companion 
bade me God-speed, and I was launched alone on my 
ten day's trip. 

Soon the difficulties of the journey became evident. 
I had taken along light shoes with thin soles. The 
northward trail w T as in some places a remnant of a road 
built by the Romans, which probably had not been re- 
paired since their time. The large and small boulders 
had stood the wear and weather o: two thousand years, 
and are now but loose heaps of stone. At other places 
the road was a mere trail full of holes and rugged edges. 
My shoes gave way in several places in a few hy _rs ; the 
thin soles were no protection against the rolling rocks and 
sharp projections. 

I had left my partner not far from ancient Gibeon, the 
ruins of which are still traceable on the crest of a hill. 
Josua, w T hen he came to exterminate all the inhabitants 
of Canaan, was neatly circumvented by the Gibeonites. 

48 



GlBEON. 



They sent an embassy, decked out in old clothes, on 
jaded and worn beasts, in order to make him believe they 
had come from a great distance outside the limits of the 
doomed country. Yet they were only twenty miles 
from Jericho, where Josua was encamped. They began 
to flatter him with the great things they had heard of the 
Israelites, thereby securing a treaty, which Josua con- 
firmed with an oath. When the Israelites a short time 
afterwards found that these people were living right in 
the midst of the promised land, they did not dare to 
destroy them on account of the oath. So the race of 
Gibeonites was allowed to live as slaves ever afterwards, 
to be employed as menials at the temple. 

Past Gibeon, a sloping plain stretched away to some 
rugged hills in the distance. The lingering sun's rays 
still rested on their rocky crests. Behind them I had been 
told to look for Ramallah. In the valley I met a few 
shepherds and wandering Arabs, who surveyed me with 
inquisitive looks. The shades of evening were lengthen- 
ing over the slopes. On the hillsides roughly-clad shep- 
herds were gently urging their flocks homeward, and 
from a great distance the cheery voices of children 
resounded. I traversed the plain and climbed around 
rocky bluffs, and yet no Ramallah hove in sight. Dark- 
ness overtook me still groping over the loose rocks of the 
indistinct trail, but the faint barking of dogs drew me 
on to continue my search in the nightly gloom. There 
are no habitations of any kind in Palestine outside the 
villages. A farmhouse is altogether unknown. After 
wearily stumbling onward for a half an hour or more, 
the barking sounded fainter than before. I began to 
familiarize myself with the prospect of sleeping on the 
rugged hillside, just as ages ago the patriarch Jacob had 
done not far from this very neighborhood. 

The trail having soon become undiscernible, I sought 
for some sheltering hollow in rocks for protection against 

49 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

the chill wind that blew across the hilltops, and, wrapping 
myself in the wide haik, laid down near the roadside to 
sleep. But the wind became still more chilly, and forced 
me to seek the lee side of a stony ledge on the other side 
of the trail. It was a mighty hard bed, but I was tired 
and I sank into a fitful doze as the moon began to rise 
over the hills. Not a soul had I met on the way since 
sunset, and the region seemed altogether deserted. The 
voices of the night in other countries, such as the chirping 
of crickets, the tremulous notes of the frogs, which softly 
lull to sleep on the prairies or in the woods of America, 
are not heard in these hills of Judea. The soundless 
night broods as if in speechless sorrow over the stony 
regions that repudiated the Savior. 

The moon had climbed high up the starry vault, when 
suddenly I was awakened by the sound of many voices 
coming over the hill behind me. Peering over the top of 
the stone ledge, I saw about twenty of the natives, or 
Arabs, rapidly coming down the stony trail, which 
gleamed in the bright moonlight, within a few paces of 
where I lay. Naturally the appearance of a band of 
Bedouins so late at night, and in a region which I 
thought uninhabited, gave rise to some uneasiness. At 
any rate they would wonder much to find a lonely 
wanderer out on the hills, and their curiosity would 
be annoying. I therefore crouched in the shade of the 
rocks, covering myself with the black haik. They 
would probably pass by without seeing me, unless 
they had a dog with them. Laughing and chattering 
they stumbled past, so close to me that the shadow of 
some of them, and of an ass which they were driving, fell 
upon the white rocks near me. None of them noticed 
me, and they disappeared down in the valley around 
another hill. When their voices had become inaudible 
I arose and sought for a more quiet resting-place some 
rods inward from the road, for they would surely see me 

5o 



Bivouacking. 



in my old place, if they should happen to come back 
the same way. I was not wrong in my conjecture about 
their return ; in half an hour I heard their voices again 
approaching. All of them, however, dragged up the 
rocky trail, unsuspicious of the presence of their white 
brother bivouacking on the hillside. 

I was not further disturbed that night, though I 
could get only fitful dozes of sleep, while the half disk of 
the moonlight slowly ran its course across the heavens. 
The edges of the rocks on which I lay would not accom- 
modate themselves to my aching limbs. This bivouck- 
ing under the sky was very pleasant — that is, to read 
about, or to muse about afterwards. But sometimes 
doubts will insinuate themselves while one revels in the 
reality. However, it might have been worse, and I was 
somewhat surprised at last when I woke up and saw 
that dawn had encroached upon the moonlight. Na- 
tives were now coming down over the hill in groups, 
driving some asses. After they had passed on to the 
valley I got up to make my toilet. It consisted merely 
in leisurely arranging my sash and my haik, and read- 
justing the tarbush. While I was thus engaged a soli- 
tary camel-driver was slowly urging his beast over the 
hilltop ; coming nearer, and raising his eyes toward me, 
he stood like one petrified. A black figure, half seen 
over the projecting rocks, and so deliberately fumbling 
around his waist, must have seemed to him very sus- 
picious. No doubt he thought I was but a leader of a gang 
of Bedouins, concealed behind the rocks, ready to rob 
him of his only possession. When now I with equal 
deliberation moved up toward the road, I saw him ner- 
vously clutching his club tighter and in a frightened tone, 
asking a question. Not knowing how many might be 
in his wake, I passed him on the trail, with a surly "ma- 
fish." This was somewhat of a superflous admoni- 
tion, for he seemed only too glad to " go about his busi- 

5i 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

ness." Curious to find out whence the barking of the 
dogs last evening had proceeded, I pursued the trail and 
found a ruinous gathering of old walls on the top of a 
hill only one and a half mile farther on. But the roads 
were so rugged that I was not sorry for having biv- 
ouacked under the sky. Moreover, I found that it was 
not Ramallah, but the remains of some ancient walls, 
inhabited by a few furtive Arabs. They now glared 
at me in no friendly manner, out of their dark holes. 

I hastened on in the probable direction of Beitin, or 
ancient Bethel. Even so early in the day my feet began 
to pain and swell from the roughness of the road, and 
every step soon became a torture. I began to realize 
what fatigue and labor Jesus Christ must have under- 
gone in his continual wanderings, very often barefooted, 
as tradition tells, up and down the land of Israel. I do 
not suppose that these roads were any better in his time. 
No wonder he sat weary at Jacob's Well. The trail led 
gradually down into a valley, where there seemed to be 
better soil. A spring irrigated it, and two or three plow- 
men were scratching the ground, urging on their beasts 
of draft with continual calls. Suddenly I heard the 
clatter of horses' hoofs on the stony trail behind me. 
A European came down the hill, preceded by a soldier 
in dirty uniform and a mule-driver ; the three of them 
were armed to the teeth, and w T ere dragging along a mule 
laden with goods. Muffled in my haik I stood at the 
roadside to watch their passing. They eyed me suspi- 
ciously from afar, prodded their beast into a furious 
gallop past my standpoint into the rocky ravine ahead, 
and disappeared behind the cliffs in the valley below. 
Why should they be afraid of a single man on their road, 
and he only a counterfeit sheik? 

My only breakfast was a not very cool drink from 
the perturbed w T ater of a spring below. By this time I 
had slowly reached the rocky wilderness of the next hill. 

52 



At the Khan. 



I looked anxiously for Beitin. In vain, however. Only 
after two hours more of weary climbing I reached the 
scanty fig orchards on its outskirts. 

But when I came to its ruinous walls, scattered with- 
out any order about the crest of the hill, and saw the dung 
piles around them, the garbage and offal littering the pas- 
sages, my hopes of refreshment and rest began to wane. 
Nobody was to be seen, no sound issued from the crumb- 
ling holes in the walls that served as doors, only a pene- 
trating stench of burning dung filled the air. In vain did 
I look for a bazaar, or for a likely place to get something 
to eat. At length I met an old man, who was carrying 
a child on his arm. After repeating to him the word 
"khan, khan," with many an expressive gesture toward 
my mouth, he pointed to a ruin near by. I found that 
it was a cavernous vault, seemingly the foundations of 
a ruined building. The whole front of the vault was 
open, and the inside was entirely bare except a few stones 
in the dim background to serve as a fireplace. Four or 
five dusky Arabs were lying or sitting on the bare ground. 
One of them, tall and gaunt, more bandit-like than the 
rest, came from the rear, and understanding from my 
signs that I wanted something to eat, he, in equally ex- 
pressive signs, requested "bakshish." It looked highly 
problematical whether he had any food to give. There 
was none in sight, and he seemed to be very hungry him- 
self. So I was not particularly forward in obliging him 
with any of my loose change. The other inmates jumped 
up from their mats and surrounded me. My haik was 
a new one with thin red stripes along the seams ; it took 
their fancy by storm. All seized hold of it, and began 
to examine it with greedy eyes. With the air of a sheik 
of thousand lances, I wrenched it from their grasp, 
almost tearing it, and turned away with an angry " ma- 
fish." That word seemed to have the same effect with 
those people as the sight of an American man of war 

53 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

in the harbor of some Turkish port. Ali had given me 
the most useful and the most necessary word in the whole 
Arabic language. They did not follow me as I turned 
another passage between the ruins. 

There I met the old man with the child again, and 
made more signs for something to eat. This time I en- 
forced them by showing a ruba-medjid, or a quarter of a 
medjid. It is a silver piece of the size of our quarter. 
He led me to a hole in the wall. It was the entrance to 
a small courtyard, surrounded on the other three sides 
by the ruinous walls of low huts. These had no windows, 
only three or four dark apertures. The yard was strewn 
with big boulders, which could be used as stepping-stones 
over the reeking dung and mud. Some pigs and goats 
groped around, three or four women and some children, 
only half dressed, stared at me in the hot sunshine. One 
of them was seated on one of the stones kneading a mass 
of dough on a flat piece of board on the ground. The 
dough looked almost as black as herself, for every now 
and then as she turned it, an end of it flopped into the 
dirt of the yard. 

Another woman sat swinging a goatskin full of milk, 
suspended from a peg in the wall. As she pushed it 
from her, a drop or two of the milk would gurgle out of 
legs of the goatskin. In a corner a mother sat, nursing 
an infant at her bare breast. The fourth one came 
close up to me to satisfy her curiosity about my new haik 
and striped undergarment. All the while the old man 
stood by scowling at the women, who probably were his 
daughters-in-law. How could they thus allow a stranger 
to look on their unprotected faces ? These were prob- 
ably his thoughts. But he need not have worried. Their 
beauty was more witch-like than bewitching. Desper- 
ately I held out the silver coin and pointed to my open 
mouth. 

But to my signs and motions they answered only by 

54 



Panic in a Harem. 



loud laughter and chatter among themselves. A boy 
of fourteen, dressed only in a dirty shirt, entered fully 
into the fun of the situation, laughing and talking with 
them and stretching out his hands for my ruba. When 
I thought they had comprehended my meaning, I gave 
him the quarter. He and one of the women rushed with 
it into one of the holes, and I thought the problem of 
providing for an empty stomach was to be speedily 
solved. But they soon returned empty-handed, and, it 
seemed, for new frolic. I grabbed the youngster by the 
neck and threateningly raised my cane. Tableau: 
Shrieks from the whole chorus, the boy tearing away, 
running into the hut, and bringing back the coin. I 
had accidentally heard the word fig in Arabic and kept 
repeating it, while again offering the coin. Finally one 
of the women climbed over the top of a wall and brought a 
wooden dish full of figs, while the boy had fetched some- 
thing like pancakes. The dirt on the figs immediately 
suggested the handling they had undergone in the un- 
washed fingers of these women, while the pancakes were 
undoubtedly baked from the same kind of dough that 
one of these women had kneaded on the filthy courtyard 
ground. 

As he saw me hesitate, the boy eagerly tried to con- 
vince me of its being eatable, and began to tug at the 
rubber-like black mass, gulping it down in great chunks. 
I left him to enjoy his banquet and began to fill my sash 
with handfuls of the figs. But though they would 
probably have gladly sold the whole outfit for a few 
paras, the boy tried to stop me from taking more than 
two handfuls for the ruba-medjid. Several times during 
these transactions the old man had already interfered and 
waved back the old hags; but now, since the coin was 
secured, he gave me to understand that I must depart 
immediately. He probably thought that the harem of 
his absent son or son-in-law was sufficiently demoralized, 

55 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

and that the line must be drawn somewhere. That old 
Moslem probably will never know with what a relieved 
and lightened heart the counterfeit sheik issued from the 
stench and filth of his son's harem. As I pursued my 
way through the reeking and filthy ruins of Beitin, it was 
hard to realize that this was ancient Bethel, the place 
where the angel had descended on a ladder from heaven 
to our sleeping forefather Jacob, and where he had set 
up the anointed stone to commemorate the great prom- 
ises he there had received from the Lord. 



56 



CHAPTER VII. 

In the "Valley of the Robbers" — Shadowed — 
Suspicious Company — My Own Jailer — A Sleep- 
less Night. 

I slowly pursued my way down the hill, eating of the 
dried figs. The road did not improve but rather got 
worse, and the hill was very steep. About a mile down 
the valley I came to a cistern. While sitting there a 
group of Arabs gathered around it, eyeing me curiously 
and seeking to enter into a conversation. Two or three 
of them were armed with long brass-bound carbines. 
A few girls also came to draw water in their earthen jugs, 
which they placed on their heads and carried all the way 
up the rugged path to Beitin. Two of the men were 
mule-drivers, and one of them was armed with a gun. 
As I wanted to drink, I had to ask for their jug, and so 
revealed my inability to speak Arabic. This seemed to 
make them more bold, and I thought it best to move on 
after I had satisfied my thirst at the brackish cistern. 
But I soon noticed that they were following at a distance, 
dodging my footsteps up and down the rugged hills, 
past olive patches on the hillsides and the ruins of a 
village farther on. There they apparently joined a long 
pack-train of mules which was wending its crooked way 
through the ravine. 

The valley does justice to its name, at least in outward 
appearance, for it is a long defile between two rocky 
declivities. By this time the soles of my shoes had be- 
come completely worn through by the rocks, and I could 
not move a step without the greatest pain. My feet were 
painfully swollen. Nevertheless I pushed forward, down 

57 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

the valley to a place where I found water trickling from 
the rocks. It goes by the name of Robbers' Fountain. 
Glad to be free from the suspicious company, I slaked 
my thirst and stretched out on the soft grass for a rest. 
But I was soon disturbed. At some distance in the rear 
I again saw the armed muleteer slowly jogging along 
the trail, and not far behind him his partner with two 
jackasses. In the dried-out bed of a torrent below 
now and then bobbed up the head of another man whom 
I had not seen before. Any sign of suspicion at such 
extraordinary movements would have been a great en- 
couragement to any evil designs they might have. There- 
fore I pretended to take the utmost ease, and simply 
watched the man with the gun as he passed reluctantly 
by. He probably did not know what to make of the 
unperturbed gaze with which I eyed him as he passed, 
and if the trio had any plans they must have been discon- 
certed. A few rods onward he threw himself under a 
tree, allowing the driver and his ragged partner in the 
ravine to come up with him. There they lay, seemingly 
resting by the roadside. I rose after a little while and 
slowly proceeded on my way, too footsore to go even at 
an ordinary pace. They allowed me to pass, but soon 
afterwards came up. 

I saw that I could not avoid some kind of intercourse, 
and therefore determined to be beforehand. I wanted 
to reach Naplouse, or Sichem, but had no knowledge of 
its whereabouts or its distance. My feet would hardly 
carry me a mile farther What if I could get the use of 
one of their beasts ? Even if their intentions were evil, 
I would be better off with one of their asses in my posses- 
sion. I resolved to get possession of a mule and ward 
off treachery later. I gave them to understand that I 
would pay a ruba-medjid, not wishing to let them per- 
ceive how anxious I was to procure a beast at any price. 
The shining quarter immediately took their eye; a 

$8 



Shadowed, 



second one, drawn from my haik, secured the larger of 
the two asses. What a luxury! To be carried along on 
the back of that beast, while my aching feet dangled 
down at leisure, untouched by the rough ground. I re- 
solved to make use of that animal and its drivers as long 
as possible, whether they were bandits or not. Soon 
the trio held a conference, whereupon one of them began 
to urge my mule briskly forward, slashing it across the 
ears, poking it from behind, and accompanying his cuff 
with such unceasing sounds as hm, brr, rr, ghee, ss. 
The man with the gun and his ragged partner with the 
other mule were soon left behind. At frequent intervals 
my driver made signs and motions for additional bak- 
shish. This happened especially when we had to over- 
come bad stretches of the road, so that in the course of 
an hour I had already raised the quarter medjid to a 
whole one. I insisted, however, on not paying him until 
the end of the journey. 

After leaving the Valley of the Robbers, we passed 
the trail leading to Siloe, where Heli and Samuel guarded 
the Sanctuary of Israel before the temple was built in 
Jerusalem. Soon we came to a rugged hill over which 
the ass could not carry me. To walk even these short 
distances was a torture, and I realized that these Arabs, 
whatever was their ultimate intention, were a godsend to 
me at present. From the top of the hill I surveyed a 
wide valley, bounded by the mountain of Gilboa. Long 
before I could drag myself across the declivity my driver 
had arrived on the other side with the beast, and stood 
talking to the keeper of Louban khan. The khan was 
but a thatched roof, resting on two ruined walls. The 
sinister keeper invited me to stay, but the bare ground 
and few straw mats were no temptation, and I preferred 
the ass's back to the suspicious hospitality of the swarthy 
host. So we pushed on across the plain, seemingly to 
a large town at the foot of the Gilboa Mountains in the 

59 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

distance. The evening sun lay spread over the land- 
scape, and intervening clouds now and then sent vast 
shadow-patches over the green valley and distant moun- 
tain slopes. 

Not far away in the valley our trail divided into two 
branches ; one to the left to a large town at the foot of a 
mountain, the other to the right toward rugged hill coun- 
try. My driver suddenly stopped and peremptorily de- 
manded a medjid. I gave him to understand that he 
would get it as soon as we would come to Naplouse. As 
he would not acquiesce, and as I would not willingly have 
relinquished my seat for ten medjid, I gave him a half 
medjid. Even this was a mistake, for now he began to 
protest, as I thought, that Naplouse was too far away and 
he would bring me to a better lodging for the night. I 
was half amused at his protests ; he was certainly unwill- 
ing to go as far as Naplouse, therefore he drove the ass 
into the side trail to the right. It led to the foot of a con- 
siderable hill, to the top of which he kept pointing. As 
we reached its base we met several Bedouins with their 
long shafted and brass-bound carbines sitting or standing 
in the ravines on both sides of the path. My driver ex- 
changed a few words with them, but my desire for rest 
and refreshment now was stronger than all suspicions. 
Besides it was time enough to look for the defense when 
there was any sign of attack. 

The sun was sinking, and its last rays were falling on 
a cluster of ruinous walls crowning the heights before 
us. To ride up the rugged trail was out of question, and 
this last half hour of climbing was probably the most 
painful half mile I ever traveled. My feet were fearfully 
swollen and bruised by two days' travel on the rugged 
trails. Up the hills and through the stench of burning 
excrements, which are used for precarious fuel in these 
countries, he led me to an enclosure surrounded by ruined 
walls. A few ugly old women, some dirty children, a 

60 



My Own Jailer. 



starving dog, several goats and sheep, and even a cow 
were stumbling over the boulders that projected like 
islands out of the mud and manure of the small yard. 

But I cared not for all that. I sat down on one of the 
stones near the entrance and began to take off what was 
left of my footwear, demanding fresh water with the air 
of a pasha. I suspected that pouring water over my 
burning feet was probably the greatest luxury I would 
ever obtain in such a place as this. I was not mistaken. 
While I sat cooling my feet with the water which the 
women brought to me in a tin can, my mule-driver stood 
conferring with one of the old women. My pantomimes 
to procure something to eat seemed to make no impres- 
sion. But he beckoned me to a low door in the old wall, 
leading into what appeared to be the vault of an old ruin 
with an arched roof. A round hole in the rear wall was 
the only window. On the bare ground in the middle was 
spread a mat, around it I saw all kinds of rubbish and 
implements littering the corners. My host pointed to 
the mat, and I understood that it would be my couch for 
the night. 

I began to long for the stony resting-place of last night, 
but I was too tired to think much of looking for one on 
the outskirts of the mountain just now; besides I was 
still in a faint hope of getting something to eat. So I at 
once lay down on the mat with a bag of some kind of 
grain for a pillow. After a while in came the Arab with 
a roll of the pancake, such as I had seen at noontime in 
Beitin, a can of water, a small tin cup with ill-smelling 
salve, and a hard-boiled egg. Stretching himself out at 
my side in full length, he gave me the egg and offered 
me some of the black tough pancake. Seeing that I hesi- 
tated to eat, he wrenched off big pieces from the rubbery 
substance, and dipping it into the dirty salve began to 
chew away at it with immense gusto. In order not to 
despise his hospitality altogether, I yielded to his urgent 

61 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

invitations. But the dirt and the toughness of the bread, 
and the smell of the grease prevented me from swallow- 
ing any of it. I contented myself with the single egg 
and the stale water. Having finished this repulsive 
meal, I tried to make my swarthy host understand that I 
must have a light of some kind. Whereupon he returned 
with a tiny kerosene torch lamp, which could contain only 
two or three thimblefuls of oil. My suspicions were 
aroused again when I saw standing in the doorway be 
hind him his afternoon companion, fumbling with his 
brass-bound carbine, and grinning over the shoulders of 
the ass-driver. When they were about to leave I saw 
them produce a ponderous key and insert it into the plank 
door on its outside. Did they intend to lock me in this 
hole over night ? In spite of my weariness I jumped up 
before they could draw the rickety door toward them 
and turn the rusty bolts. With an angry "mafish" I 
hurled the ass-driver out of the doorway against his mate, 
and wrenched the key from the lock. In strong English 
I told them that " if there was any locking to be done, 
I was the one to do it, and from the inside." They 
seemed to be paralyzed by the proceeding. But that 
made no difference to me, angry as I was. I slammed 
the door before their faces and locked it from the inside, 
storing away the ponderous key under my pillow. I 
could at least keep undesirable company out, even if 
their intention was to detain me as desirable company 
within. I heard them rummaging around and talking in 
a low voice for a while on the outside, while I made pre- 
paration to sleep and leave the rest to Providence. En- 
trapped or not, I was too tired to think of much more 
than rest and sleep. 

But in spite of my fatigue I scarcely obtained a half 
hour of sleep during the night. Outside was the bustle 
of men and beasts retiring to rest. Inside was the stuffy 
air, the hard couch, and a bloodthirsty host of mosqui- 

62 



A Night of Horror. 



toes beginning their wrathful music around my ears. 
The haik, thrown over my head, was no protection 
against them, for they managed to find an opening no 
matter how I adjusted it. As the noise on the outside 
gradually subsided, the music of the ravenous insects 
became so much the louder, and, in unison with it, a mys- 
terious crackling noise sounded from some dark corner 
behind me, as if someone were slowly breaking through 
the walls. From another quarter a stealthy cackling, as 
if from a disturbed chicken-roost, joined in the hideous 
concert. 

It had been too dark when I entered this chamber of 
horrors to see anything except the mat and the imme- 
diate surroundings. I lighted the small torch and groped 
around to examine the lair. It was a cavern about nine 
feet square vaulted over by solid masonry. Brushwood 
lay heaped up in one corner, an old plow in another, bags 
filled with grain of some kind stood at the head of my 
resting-place, broken implements near the door. From 
the rough vault hung down long strings of dusty cobwebs, 
and the moonlight gleamed through the chinks of the 
plank door. I could find nothing to explain the noises, 
for they had ceased as soon as I lighted the lamp. One 
of them was satisfactorily explained soon after I extin- 
guished the light; a rat ran over my legs, and being 
satisfied of that at least, I began grimly to enjoy fitful 
dozes of sleep. The mosquitoes had a high time of it 
that night, as far as I could judge from their satanic 
music. On account of the unbearable closeness and 
stench of the air I could not keep the haik over my face 
for more than a few minutes. I wondered afterwards 
why the thought of leaving the cavernous quarters never 
came to me. It must have been on account of the ex- 
treme fatigue. 

The dawn at length began to glimmer through the 
joints of the door, and I heard the noise of awakening men 

63 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

and animals. The suspicious behavior of my hosts yes- 
terday was still fresh in my mind, and I somewhat appre- 
hended trouble at my departure. However I soon found 
that if they had meditated any treachery, they must have 
changed their minds, for when I unbolted the door I 
found no obstacle, and an old woman standing in the 
yard readily showed me the way out to the hillside, where 
my ass-driver and a dozen of other Arabs were sitting 
on the detached rocks, or standing on the scanty grass. 
I bargained for an ass to ride to Naplouse and for a pair 
of their shoes. As for breakfast, they looked hungry 
enough themselves to cause doubt whether they had any 
to spare. My ass-driver of yesterday grinningly sold me 
his shoes. They were merely thick soles of raw cowhide, 
ending in a peak over the toes. The top was thin red 
leather latched with heavy leather strips. He took what 
was left of my old shoes away with him, and came back 
leading the mule I had bargained for. We were soon on 
the way, and out of sheer hunger I found myself munch- 
ing some of the dirty pancake of which he was making 
his breakfast. No wonder: I had not had anything to 
eat for almost two days, except a few figs and the hard- 
boiled egg last night. 



64 



CHAPTER VIII. 

At Jacob's Well — Fanatical Naplouse — Gal- 
loping over Morasses — Daoud's Anxiety — 
Welcome Hospitality — On the Plains of 
Esdrelon. 

The sun was just rising over the eastern hills, casting 
long shadows into the wide valley of Sichem, to which we 
were now descending. We traversed it in about two 
hours, and came to the foot of Mount Garizim, where the 
ruins of Jacob's Well still stand within an enclosure. My 
driver had continually asked for increased and immediate 
pay during the whole time, but I was firm and told him 
he would get it in Naplouse. Sulkily he waited on the 
road while I went to see the old well of Jacob. An old 
man unlocked the gate of the enclosure, and conducted 
me to the ruins of a church built over the well by the cru- 
saders. Under a vault of these ruins is the opening of 
the well. Its top is lined with stones that looked old and 
worn enough to have been in use at the time of Jacob. 
Grooves several inches deep were worn into them by the 
ropes with which the water was drawn. The old man let 
down a triple candle light into the circular shaft, which 
illumined the sides and the bottom of the well a hundred 
feet below. Its springs were now dried up. Here Jesus 
sat, tired and hungry, burning with the desire of bringing 
erring men back to his truth. Here his divine affability 
converted the Samaritan woman and the inhabitants of 
the neighboring city. 

We resumed our way along the foot of Mount Garizim 
and soon entered the narrow vallev between it and Mount 
Hebal to the left. Naplouse, the ancient Sichem, lies 

65 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

crouched between these two mountains. On Garizim 
the Samaritans had their temple, and the inhabitants of 
Naplouse still resort to its summit as a holy place. To 
the right, at the foot of Hebal, is the tomb of Joseph. 
Both it and the well are in the hands of the Greeks or 
Russians. We passed many barracks and many Turk- 
ish soldiers, for Naplouse is quite a town. The Moslems 
here are very fanatical, and often molest Christians 
passing through. None of the guards however troubled 
me, for I was for the time a free and roving Bedouin. 
Nor was I molested in any way in the streets of Naplouse. 
My ass-driver got several additions to his pay by dint of 
continual demands. After some fruitless inquiry about 
the Latin church I found a shop-keeper who spoke 
Italian, and sent a boy to show us the way. There the 
ass-driver left me to my fate. He probably had more 
ready cash in his hands than he ever expected to get, 
and no doubt had a good time on that day. There are 
only a few Latin Christians in Naplouse. They have a 
chapel attended by an Italian priest. The servant 
received me at once without distrust into the house, but 
I had some difficulties in making the padre believe that I 
was a Catholic priest. I always found Italians some- 
what suspicious in that regard. They often asked me 
why I did not wear a cassock while traveling. A very 
practical idea, I must say, to go around the world in a 
cassock! But they stick to forms. Of course we must 
excuse the good Father in Naplouse ; others besides he 
would have hesitated to believe that a priest was hidden 
under my Bedouin outfit. But I soon managed to over- 
come his distrust, and then he treated me quite 
hospitably. 

I was completely worn out. Somewhat fearing an 
attack of fever, I took a dose of quinine and went to bed. 
In the meanwhile my host promised to procure a horse 
and a moukar for my journey to Nazareth. When he 

66 



With Daoud. 



called me to partake of some dinner there was a country- 
man of his at the table with him, and we managed with 
some difficulty to make ourselves understood. Gladly 
paying for his services, I bade good-by to the Father and 
mounted the horse which had been brought by Daoud, 
a Christian moukar. He was a short chunky Arab, and 
rode a small mule. What a difference there was between 
the Moslem Arabs of yesterday, and this Christian 
moukar of to-day ! Though of the same station and con- 
dition of life, he was a civilized man, had good manners, 
whereas the former were little less than savages. Not 
once on the road did he refer to the wages I had promised 
him, nor to any extra. bakshish. 

The valley between Mount Garizim and Mount Hebal 
is narrow. Naplouse, being a large town, extends 
through this valley for about a mile. There are still some 
descendants of the ancient Sichemites, and in their house 
of worship they show the most ancient manuscript of 
the five books of Moses extant. It is in the form of a 
scroll, which runs on two rollers, like the liturgical books 
of the Jews in their synagogues of our day. The five 
books of Moses are the only scriptures these Sichemites 
recognize as inspired. The name Naplouse stands for 
Neapolis, the name given to Sichem by the Romans 
after the time of our Savior. The main street of Na- 
plouse, following the course of the valley and intersecting 
the town through its whole length, is one continued 
bazaar where much native business is transacted. The 
rest of the town has the usual ruinous and neglected 
appearance common to all Palestine. To look for grand 
buildings or decent dwellings would be useless. The 
crumbling walls of ruins, covered with thatched roofs, 
furnish habitation to the majority of the population. 
The filth in the streets is, it seems, more abundant 
than in Jerusalem. 

After traversing the valley of Sichem, Daoud took 

67 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

a trail to the right up the mountainside. He was no 
laggard, and continually prodded his mule onward, 
urging me to make haste. The sun shone warm on 
the mountains, several of which we had left behind, 
when Sebastieh, the ancient capital of Samaria, on the 
top of a high hill, came to view. There are many ruins 
on its outskirts. The trail had become more passable 
after we left Naplouse, and the country showed more 
signs of vegetation. We passed several fine springs, 
and much of the land was under cultivation, or covered 
with olive and fruit trees. Proceeding some seven or 
eight miles of hilly country beyond Sebastieh, we entered 
a wide plain, across which we saw Bethulia perched on 
a conical shaped hill to our left. This hill rose from 
the plain, and was somewhat detached from the other 
mountains that encircled the plain of Bethulia. Holo- 
fernes had a fine camping-ground for his army on the 
grassy plain, until Judith chopped off his head. 

Daoud followed an indistinct trail directly across the 
plain. But it must have been the wrong one, for we 
were soon in the midst of a swamp. Daoud got very 
much excited when his ass struck a soft place and sank 
deep into the ooze. I somewhat enjoyed his excitement, 
for which there was no great cause. There were sev- 
eral hoof-marks of cattle leading through the soft places 
in different directions. Besides he allowed his ass to go 
so slowly that it could not but sink into the ooze. On 
no account would he allow me to proceed until he 
should have crossed. He called a boy, who was at 
some distance herding cattle, to show him the way. 
But he was afraid to follow the direction the boy gave. 
Seeing that he made no headway, I spurred my horse 
into a run, and followed the old tracks I had seen leading 
into the morass. My horse floundered through the 
insidious ooze, sinking deeper and deeper, while Daoud 
still stood at the edge shouting his lamentations and 

68 



Arab Hospitality. 



warnings after me. With a little scare I got safely to 
the other side. Daoud would not follow, and made a 
wide detour, where he at last scrambled through with 
his mule. 

We again briskly pursued our way across the plain. 
Several large, beautiful black and white birds permitted 
us to approach within a few yards before they took 
flight. A flock of ducks also flew across the plain. 

It seems poor Daoud's nerves were altogether un- 
strung by his adventure in the swamp, for he was now 
continually grumbling and prodding his ass. He 
turned around very often, making impatient signs for 
me to hasten, though I did not lag behind. The foot- 
hills were soon reached and we entered through wheat 
patches into an ascending ravine. The sun had dis- 
appeared, and the anxiety of Daoud probably arose 
from the fear of not being able to reach Sedabdieh, 
whither the priest in Naplouse had directed him for the 
night. The road was again exceedingly rugged, and 
dusk had begun to settle before we reached the top of 
the ravine. Daoud pushed aside some of the shrubbery, 
and gave a grunt of satisfaction when he saw the village 
lying in the valley below. He hastened down into the 
valley with his ass, and led the way between some ruined 
passages to a church on one side of the village. The 
penetrating smell of burning dung filled the air. The 
priest was not at home, but he arrived shortly after in 
company with an Arab priest, who had come on a visit. 
When Daoud told him that he had brought another 
priest as a guest for the night, he turned to me and 
asked me in Arabic, where the visitor was. I answered 
in French, that I was fearfully tired and hungry, and 
longed for some rest. Still more puzzled, he repeated 
his question, for he took me for an Arabian dragoman. 
It was only after a good deal of explanation, that he 
became used to the idea that I was his visitor, and a 

69 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

priest in a sheik's outfit. When once he understood 
the real situation he was hospitality itself. 

Now that I had a prospect of obtaining some rest, a 
feeling of complete exhaustion overtook me. I had no 
desire for anything but sleep and rest. How glad I was 
when the father showed me a room where I could lie 
down! I fell at once into a sound sleep, and the kind 
priest must have had a great time to wake me two hours 
afterwards for supper. He had put himself, no doubt, 
to some trouble to procure some extra dishes, but I 
could hardly keep my eyes open while partaking of 
them. The priests in these countries must be extremely 
poor, and they no doubt live on almost nothing. Though 
the two priests seemed anxious to have a talk with me 
after dinner, I begged them to allow me to go to sleep. 
The resident priest seemed to be a Frenchman, while 
his other guest was a full-blooded Arab, who could 
speak only Arabic. He was on the way to Nazareth, 
his native town. The long sleep completely restored 
me, and I awoke in the morning ready to resume my 
journey. 

Daoud waited with impatience until I finished mass 
in the little mission chapel and partook of a breakfast. 
My host would not accept payment for his hospitality, 
so nothing was left to do but to leave it in the form of 
stipends. The sun was already far up in its diurnal 
span when Daoud, the Arab priest, and myself were 
crossing the valley to Djenine, on the other side of some 
distant hills. The priest wore a cassock, and over his 
head a white tarbush, which fluttered in the wind as he 
rode along. He was mounted on a fine horse and 
usually took the lead on the trail. 

At about eleven o'clock we came to Djenine, the 
scriptural Engannin, where Jesus healed the ten lepers. 
An abundant fountain gushes out of the hillside, which 
runs by the few miserable dwellings of Djenine and 

70 



Esdrelon Plain. 



crosses the great plain of Esdrelon, which now spread 
out before us. On the spot where Jesus met the lepers 
a large Greek or Russian convent is built, but the in- 
mates are so fanatic that my companions would not 
consent to visit it. From the gardens of this convent, 
in which are planted a great many fig and olive trees, 
an old aqueduct is built, and crosses the trail over an 
arch. It formerly carried the waters of the Kison over the 
surrounding higher lands for irrigation. Now, however, 
the clear waters rush out of the gardens through a break 
in the aqueduct, forming a limpid stream across the 
trail and through the sloping plain of Esdrelon. The 
sight of this brook, gushing from beneath the shade of 
luxurious trees, is extremely refreshing to the dusty trav- 
eler in Palestine, as he comes from the barren and rocky 
mountains of Judea. 

The plain of Esdrelon is one of the most extended 
and beautiful in Palestine. To the right or east, little 
Hermon, and farther on, Tabor rise as landmarks; to 
the left, Carmel shuts out the view to the sea. In the 
mountains of Gilboe, which flank to the right, Saul met 
his defeat and death. The Kison flows through the 
midst of the plain. Some parts of the plain are dotted 
with wheatfields, whereas the middle portions of it 
afford fine pasture for the cattle. The roads, or paths 
rather, are free from rocks and it was a pleasure to 
traverse them. About half way across the plain gad- 
flies began to swarm around my horse and he became 
quite unmanageable. Daoud began to shout at me 
" de bain, " " de bain," as if in danger of death, and made 
the horse still more frenzied. As I did not know what 
he meant, I dismounted and let Daoud take charge of 
him, while I got on the ass. As long as these asses of 
Palestine choose to keep agoing they are very pleasant 
and easy to ride. But woe to the traveler when they get 
tired out, he will have to expect a thousand vexatious 

71 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

tricks. Daoud, after vainly trying to quiet the horse, 
soon again preferred the ass. 

Nain was visible to the right. It is the village where 
Jesus called the son of the widow back to life, as they 
were carrying him out of the city gates for burial. 
There are no walls or gates at Nain now, only a col- 
lection of ruins, which give shelter to the few poverty- 
stricken inhabitants. Not far from Nain, at the foot of 
Mount Hermon, are the caves of Endor, where Saul 
persuaded the witch to conjure up the prophet Samuel. 
Instead of receiving the assurance of victory over his 
enemies, he heard the judgment of God pronounced 
against him. That day he came to an ignominious end. 
Mount Tabor, which had been hidden from sight by the 
mountains of Gilboe, became visible as we approached 
the farther limits of the plain of Esdrelon. Nazareth 
lay in a hollow on the rocky heights of Galilee ahead of 
us. As we began to climb the rough trail we passed a 
group of armed Arabs, who scanned us with sinister 
looks. Farther up a few more seemed to stand as 
scouts. As our appearance was not particularly promis- 
ing, we were not molested. 



72 



CHAPTER IX. 

Nazareth and its Sanctuaries — Brother Jean 
— Infested Regions — Encounter on Noted 
Grounds — Blighted Shores of Galilee — An 
Arab Wedding at Night — In the Hands of a 
Boatload of Fanatic Moslems. 

Nazareth is not visible from the plain, for it is hidden 
on a high plateau. It is a friendly-looking town, like 
Bethlehem. People seem to be more prosperous and 
the country around is better cultivated. Trees peer 
over the houses and there are orchards on its outskirts. 
Just as we reached the fine wagon road that was built 
from Haipha to Nazareth in the expectation of the Ger- 
man emperor's visit, two kawasses came galloping past 
on white horses in advance of a carriage just coming 
from Haipha. Xhese kawasses like to show their horse- 
manship and look quite gallant when they approach 
a town where they know there is no need of using their 
arms. But I suspect they are not so frisky when they 
come into the presence of the roving Bedouins. No 
doubt they would afford small protection in an attack. 

Daoud brought us directly to the Franciscan hospice 
in Nazareth. These hospices are useful institutions in 
Palestine, for there the pilgrim finds welcome shelter at 
all times. The poor are received with as much hos- 
pitality as the rich. The fees are very moderate, and 
if any one should not be able to pay, he will no doubt 
be allowed to depart in peace. The Franciscans are 
found established at most of the holy places, and it is 
only of late that other Catholic orders have opened 
hospices in Jerusalem also. But it seems that at the 

73 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

Nazareth hospice the line is drawn at an Arab sheik. 
They would not believe that I was a Christian pilgrim, 
much less a priest. Fortunately for me, Bishop Kelly 
from Australia just happened to meet me in the reception 
room. As I had spoken to him in Casa Nova at Jeru- 
salem, he recognized me in spite of the Bedouin clothes. 
Then brother Jean, highly amused at my enterprise, 
received me quite cordially and assigned a room for my 
use. During his long experience he had not met a pil- 
grim who made use of such a scheme to evade the 
marauding Arabs. Daoud, after receiving the stipulated 
pay, returned to Naplouse that afternoon. 

After sending a despatch to my companion in Jeru- 
salem, Brother Jean personally conducted me and Rev. 
Westermeyer, a priest from Tucson, Arizona, to the 
noteworthy places in Nazareth. In the upper part of 
the town is the Mensa Christi. It is a large stone about 
three feet high and six by nine square, with an almost 
flat surface on top, where Christ is said to have eaten 
with his apostles after the resurrection. A fine chapel 
is built over this stone. Farther down, in one of the 
crooked streets, are the remains of the synagogue, 
whence the enraged Jews dragged Jesus in order to 
precipitate him from the cliff. This latter is about a 
half mile out of town, in a rugged defile in the mountain. 
The most remarkable place in Nazareth will always be 
the place where the Blessed Virgin lived and where the 
angel appeared unto Mary to announce the miraculous 
conception of the Son of God. This spot is behind the 
hospice, inside of a beautiful church. It is built up on the 
old foundation of St. Helen's church, covering the former 
site of the holy house of Loretto, and the caves, that 
formed part of the dwelling of Jesus, Mary and Joseph. 

As you enter the church you see a magnificent high 
altar rising above the platform in front. This platform 
is about fifteen feet higher than the main body of the 

74 



"Hie Verbum Caro Factum Est. 77 

church and forms the sanctuary. The church is beau- 
tifully decorated throughout and the stained glass win- 
dows shed through it a mellow light. Under the plat- 
form are the crypts or caves, which were a part of the 
dwelling of the holy family. Fifteen marble steps, 
about twelve feet wide, lead down to the first cave. On 
the spot where Mary knelt as She received the message 
of the angel and where She gave her blessed consent to 
the Incarnation, stands the altar of the Annunciation. 
Lights are continually burning in front of it. The walls 
of the cave are covered with marble slabs, with the ex- 
ception of the pillar to the left, where the angel hovered, 
when he brought the message. What Christian's heart 
is not moved in places like this, where such heavenly 
mysteries transpired? Here heaven came in contact 
with the earth ; here the darkness of sin was dispelled by 
the light of heaven ; here God asked the lowly Virgin to 
become his Mother. 

Behind the altar is another cave, which is said to have 
been the kitchen of the holy family. Adjoining this, a 
third cave formed another apartment. The brother 
showed us certain remnants which indicated in what 
position the house of Loretto must have stood and how 
it was joined to the caves so as to form one dwelling with 
them. It was, and is even now, very common among 
the Jews to build their dwelling over the openings of 
caves in such a way so as to make use of them as part 
of the abode. The miraculous transportation of the 
holy house of Loretto is such a well authenticated fact 
that none but the hypercritical find difficulty in believing 
it. As I knew that it would not be very long before I 
would see Loretto, I took particular notice of circum- 
stances relating to this sacred spot and the sanctuary of 
Loretto. Any one that weighs well the evidences will 
come to the conclusion that such a house as that at 
Loretto has once stood here. 

75 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

The workshop of St. Joseph is not far from the church 
of the Annunciation ; here the Crusaders had built a large 
basilica, of which only the foundations remain. They 
have been excavated by the Franciscans and are plainly 
visible. A chapel occupies that part of the foundations 
which enclose the old workshop. They have also suc- 
ceeded in buying up all the space intervening between 
the church and the workshop, with the exception of a 
small lot, so that very soon all the space connected with 
the workshop of her spouse and the dwelling place of 
the holy family will be under Franciscan custody. 

The next morning I said holy Mass on the spot where 
the blessed Virgin received the message from the angel, 
and where the word was made flesh. In the credo of 
every Mass said on this altar the priest says, " Hie 
verbum caro factum est," i. e., "Here the word was 
made flesh." Brother Jean is quite an original char- 
acter and well fitted for the office he holds as manager of 
the hospice. He speaks seven different languages. 
The French priests fare badly in his estimation. Out 
of hundreds of them that he had met, only two of them 
acknowledged that the French people are falling away 
from the faith. Those two, however, had told him with 
tears in their eyes, that religion has no hold on the men 
in France and that the churches are filled mostly by 
the women. If it is necessary to see an evil before it 
can be corrected, then this wilful blindness of the French 
clergy is certainly a bad omen. Three American priests 
were camping at the foot of the hill on the outskirts of 
Nazareth. They were in charge of a dragoman and 
were paying 850 francs apiece for his services as guide. 
This is an enormous price. My expenses had not yet 
amounted to 30 francs, and Rev. Westermeyer, who trav- 
eled alone with a moukar, will make the journey from 
Jerusalem to Nazareth, Tiberias, Tabor, and Haipha for 
about 140 francs. Of course he must stop over night 

76 



Start for Tiberias. 



wherever he finds accommodation, like myself. One 
that does not know how to be independent of dragomen 
is at their mercy. They increase their demands in pro- 
portion as one is dependent upon them. 

After dinner brother Jean sent me a moukar, who 
was to bring a horse for my trip to Tiberias and return. 
The moukar brought a horse furnished with Arab saddle 
and stirrups. But the wily moukar, instead of accom- 
panying me to take care of the horse, as was agreed, at 
the first turning of the road, left me and the horse in 
charge of a battered and ragged piece of humanity, who 
was partly lame, almost blind, and not altogether too 
sharp of hearing. I did not much care or take notice 
of him at first, but when I perceived that in addition he 
was not very sure of the way, all his other deficiencies 
became so much the more annoying. Just as we were 
leaving Nazareth, an Arab woman ran past us with 
dishevelled hair and screaming. She was pursued by a 
furious Arab, who soon seized her by the hair and struck 
her in the face. The maddened woman seized a large 
stone to hurl it at the man. I suppose this is one of the 
amenities of married life in the Arab harems. 

On the outskirts of the town we passed the fountain 
of Mary, which is the only source of fresh water for 
Nazareth. Two large jets gush from a ruined alcove 
into a trough and from there meander down the valley. 
All day long the women of Nazareth are seen gathered 
around this fountain, filling their earthen jars, washing 
their clothes and, womanlike, gossiping with each other. 
Dexterously they balance the large jars containing 
three or four gallons of water on top of their heads and 
walk along the rough streets without spilling a drop. 
This accounts for the straight and upright carriage of 
their bodies, which is so noticeable in the women of 
Oriental countries. In the large families one of the 
females is deputed to do this water-carrying, and it 

77 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

keeps her busy most of the time. The water-jars in the 
Orient would do good service in running opposition to 
the ice companies in our own country. For the water 
exudes like perspiration through the porous earthen- 
ware ; if the jar is then exposed to a current of air, the 
rapid evaporation of the thin moisture on the outside 
will keep the water cool and fresh. Travelers on 
horseback or on foot generally carry a small jar, in 
which the water is always kept in good condition by 
this process. 

We left behind us several hills and passed a village 
before we came to Kep Kana, where Jesus changed the 
water into wine at the marriage feast. The Franciscans 
have erected a chapel over the foundations of an older 
church on the spot, where this first public miracle was 
wrought by the Savior. The guardian of the convent on 
Mount Tabor happened to be there on a visit. He invited 
me to the dwelling and regaled me with a glass of wine. 
A little farther on is another chapel on the site of Nathan- 
aePs house. About two miles from Kana, in a valley to 
the left, is seen the field, where the apostles, being hungry, 
plucked some ears of corn on the Sabbath. The Pharisees 
accused them of having thereby violated the sabbath, 
but Jesus defended them against their hateful aspersions. 
A fine field of grain was waving even then in the same 
spot. The meadows and fields hereabouts are in a 
pleasant contrast with the barren mountains of Judea 
and eastern Samaria, which I had traversed on the first 
two days. The road gradually ascends to a high ridge, 
about a mile to the left of the rude village Loubieh. 
The Kouroun Hattine, or hill of beatitudes, stands out 
boldly against the blue sky. Here Jesus is said to 
have taught the eight beatitudes, which have become 
the foundation of all Christian civilization. Six hun- 
dred years ago, the crusaders made their last stand 
against the Moslems under Saladin, but met great 

78 



"Harami!" 



slaughter and defeat. It put an end to the kingdom of 
Jerusalem after a duration of less than one hundred 
years. 

I desired to visit the summit of this mountain, where 
the beatitudes were first proclaimed, and I accordingly 
turned my horse off the road to ascend to its summit. 
But my moukar raised loud objections, calling out with 
violent gesticulations: "Harami, harami! " (robbers, 
robbers), refusing to follow. As the ground became 
too rough and broken, I dismounted and tied the horse 
to a projecting rock, motioning him to come and take 
charge of it, while I proceeded to climb the hill alone. 
The place looked lonesome and rugged enough, but as I 
did not see any sign of human life either around its sides 
or on its summit, I pushed on till I reached the plateau 
of the mountain. Ruins of an old church are still scat- 
tered about, while several rocks jut out around the edges, 
which give this mountain its present name of Kouroun, 
or Horns of Hattine. A beautiful view is had from this 
summit. To the northeast, at about seven miles distance, 
the large town of Saphet lies scattered over the brow of 
a hill. To the east, in a deep basin, surrounded by 
mountains, gleam the blue waters of Genesareth. Across 
the lake over the mountains of Moab, the snow-covered 
summit of the greater Hermon caught the rays of the 
evening sun. To the southeast stretches the woody 
valley of the Jordan, and in the southwest, Tabor's 
oval heights rise over the plains of Esdrelon. Carmel, 
behind it, shuts off the view of the Mediterranean Sea. 
The mountains of Galilee gradually merge into the 
higher Libanon range of Syria. 

My spurt up the Mount of Beatitudes had consumed 
more time than I had calculated and the sun was now 
sinking. As I again resumed the saddle to traverse the 
broken ground back to our trail, a band of Bedouins 
were coming from an opposite direction along the road 

79 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

which I sought to regain. Two of them, on horseback 
and armed with carabines, halted as they saw us at a 
distance, and then left the road and crossed the fields in 
a gallop toward us. I did not know what their intention 
was, but it was evidently necessary to make some kind of 
a bluff, if I did not want to be molested. So I boldly 
changed my direction in order to meet them squarely. 
They halted within a dozen yards, grasping their guns. 
As a counter move I put my right hand to my belt as if 
ready to draw a weapon. Evidently they were puzzled 
and expected a parley at least. But they were bound to 
be disappointed. I said nothing, not even "Salaam," 
for my dignity of sheik, wearing a ten times better haik 
than they, required that they should greet me first. In a 
puzzled way they muttered that word of greeting as I rode 
closely past them. I answered with a surly "Aleikun." 
They must have readily understood, that I was not in- 
clined to waste too much of my Arabic on them. But 
they detained my sorry guide and plied him with ques- 
tions, while I rode on toward the trail. I don't know 
what fibs the guide told them about me, but they released 
him after a short parley and he came trudging on behind. 
The path now descended rapidly down the bluffs to 
the basin of the lake. The dusk began to settle rapidly, 
and as it became quite dark, I took a side trail in the hope 
of reaching the valley sooner. The guide had completely 
lost his way and stumbled on behind me. I could do 
nothing but trust entirely to the instinct of my horse to 
bring me again to the main road. On either side, some 
distance from our course, Bedouins were heard, and 
groups of them were coming toward us, holding rude 
lanterns in our directions. I urged on my stumbling 
horse, loudly repeating the Arabic words which I had 
heard Daoud use in urging on his beasts of burden. In 
the dark of course the Arabs must have taken us for one 
of their own marauders returning to Tiberias. 

80 



Arab Nuptials. 



Happily my horse again found the main road and 
long before we reached Tiberias, we saw tiny lights far 
down in the valley gleaming through the darkness. 
Coming nearer, we were surprised to find that the lights 
we had seen, were small bonfires and lanterns used by 
bands of Arabs outside the old city walls. They were 
celebrating some Mahomedan feast, and the dull rattling 
of drums and the sound of fifes supplemented the bonfires. 
The hospice of the Franciscans is built on the site of St. 
Peter's house. We had to grope our way through the 
garbage and half-ruined walls of several streets, before 
we came to its gate. Spanish fathers and two Brazilian 
brothers received me with laughing surprise at my strange 
garb. It was hard to do justice to their curious inquiries 
and to the substantial supper at one and the same time. 

Afterwards one of the brothers conducted me to the 
flat roof of the three-storied hospice, in order to see some- 
thing of an Arab wedding going on in one of the neighbor- 
ing houses. Sounds of festive music and gaiety were 
heard long before the real ceremony took place. At 
about nine o'clock a crowd of young people and some 
men were seen coming slowly from the upper part of the 
town with lanterns and torches. In their midst the 
bride, entirely veiled, was led by some of her relatives 
over the rough street. The motley crowd of Arabs, 
young and old, kept up a continual singing and shouting, 
clapping of hands, and beating of cymbals. One shrill 
cry, like the long-drawn triller of frogs in early spring, 
sounded above all the rest of the noise. The flickering 
light of the torches lighted up the earnest faces of the 
swarthy crowd as they passed in front of the hospice. 
The bride disappeared behind the doors of the house, 
while most of the men and children remained outside in 
the courtyard and the street. Only the shrill frog-cry 
yet resounded at intervals from the interior of the house. 

Half an hour later the clamor of a still larger pro- 

81 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

cession was heard coming from a different direction of 
the city. It was the bridegroom seeking his bride. He 
was conducted down the same street by the light of flar- 
ing torches. A crowd of men were singing a monotonous 
song with alternate responses like a litany. They were 
moving along sideways in two rows, and at each response 
they bowed toward the bridegroom almost to the ground. 
Others waved their torches, struck the cymbals, or 
played the flutes. The bridegroom, blindfolded, and 
with hands loosely tied in front, was conducted by two 
guides through the narrow streets. The noise became 
louder as they passed the hospice, and ended in confused 
shouts as they arrived at the locked gates of the afore- 
mentioned courtyard. The whole procession seemed to 
be in suspense for a while, as the loud knocks at the gate 
resounded through the night. Now and then also the 
high, quavering notes of the frog-cry sounded from the 
interior of the house. At length the gate seemed to have 
been forced open, and the bridegroom, freed from his 
bonds, rushed alone into the yard, while the bride was 
seen rushing down a stairs. The whole scene was lit up 
fantastically by the flickering torches. They fell into 
each other's arms and disappeared together in one of the 
side doors to indulge their nuptial rites in sacred privacy. 
The whole crew of Arabs outside raised a shout, for, as 
in the regulation novel, the loving pair had found each 
other and were now united. There was nothing left for 
us but to descend from the roof of our hospice; 
the show was over. 

The next day being the feast of Saint George, which 
is a duplex here (I mention this for the benefit of my 
clerical friends who are accustomed to celebrate it as a 
semi-duplex in the United States), I celebrated his mass 
in preference to that of St. Peter, which can be said every 
day of the year on this altar. After mass I hired a boat 
to row to the ruins of Magdala, Capharnaum, and Beth- 

82 



A Boat-Ride. 



saida. A lazier crew than the one I had happened on 
never pulled oars. Six had entered the boat besides the 
owner and myself. But only two of them at a time did 
any rowing. The rest of them lay dozing or chatting on 
the seats. Once or twice they were stung to exertion by 
the ridicule which I served out to them. Magdala is now 
a field of ruins, where bandits watch for unprotected 
travelers, or the jackal prowls about. The same may be 
said of Bethsaida and Capharnaum, only the ruins are 
more extensive. And yet the lands around seem to be 
more fertile than other parts of the country. The male- 
diction of Jesus Christ over these once flourishing cities, 
as over the rest of Palestine, is literally fulfilled. For 
nearly all the towns and villages, even a great part of 
Jerusalem, are only heaps of ruins and the inhabitants 
are but the dregs of the many surrounding and distant 
nations, that have been left behind by the invading 
armies. I proposed taking a bath in mid-lake. But 
my swarthy boatmates would not hear of it, as a traveler 
had been drowned some time ago while out on the lake, 
and the crew of his boat had been seized under suspicion 
of having thrown him overboard. I believe it was just 
as well that they did refuse, for one or two of them had 
listened to some of my remarks about Mahomet with 
quite an angry scowl. 

Lake Genesareth is a beautiful sheet of water some six 
miles wide by about ten long. The Jordan enters it from 
the north and issues again from the south, flowing on about 
seventy miles to be lost in the salty waters of the Dead 
Sea. The mountains of Moab rise in high barren cliffs 
on its eastern shore. Only one of the many towns and 
villages that dotted its shores during the time of Christ still 
remains, Tiberias, containing about four thousand inhab- 
itants. It is nothing but a large collection of ruins and 
mud-huts surrounded by crumbling fortification walls. 
The best building in Tiberias is the Franciscan hospice. 

83 



CHAPTER X. 

Across Hill and Dale to Tabor's Heights — Sur- 
prising a Caravan — Sacred Shrines of Old — 
Again at Nazareth — Coaching to Haipha. 

After dinner my worthy guide stumbled on ahead of 
me through a breach of the city walls, and up the high 
bluffs over a trail, which he guessed would bring us to 
Mount Tabor. On the top of the steep declivities, 
however, the trail branched out into several others going 
in different directions. As he blundered into a path, 
which led into the valley of the Jordan south of us, I 
simply recalled him and led the way across a spacious 
valley, which lay to the west, and at the head of which 
the horned crags of the Mount of Beatitudes lay north- 
ward. As I urged on my horse at a fast gait, he dropped 
behind, and had lost sight of me by the time my horse 
began to climb toward a ravine on the opposite ridge of 
hills. Like many others of the natives of Palestine, he 
suffered from sore eyes and was almost blind. The 
disease is brought on by handling dried figs, which con- 
tain a subtle poison. As they do not wash their hands 
very frequently, it is readily brought into contact with 
the eyes. When I was on the point of entering the 
ravine, I saw my guide far down in the valley, anxiously 
looking for me, and uttering doleful cries, though I was 
in plain sight. After waiting in vain for a while, I had 
to ride within a few yards of him before he saw me and 
heard my loud calls. 

I pointed in the direction of Tabor and proceeded up 
the broken ravine. We were expecting to find a cool 
drink at the fountain head of a rippling stream, which 

85 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

purled down over the rocks, but our hopes vanished, 
when we saw several men and children bathing in the 
very trough of the spring. On the summit of the moun- 
tain is perched a half -ruined village, inhabited by bandit- 
like Arabs. From there we could distinguish the trail 
down the gradual descent to the foot of Tabor. About 
two miles farther on, Koud-el-khan guards the trail on 
both sides like two forts. It was formerly used as a 
gathering place for the cattle and camel drivers from 
across the Jordan and from the south. Here they made 
their exchange between Egypt and Arabia before the 
time of railroads and canals. Koud-el-khan is in ruins 
now and a favorite resort of nomad Bedouins. The 
neighborhood affords fine pastures and the small stream 
in the valley is fringed with growths of trees and shrub. 
Down on the other side of the stream, a tall Arab had 
dismounted from his white horse and was performing his 
prayers toward Mecca with many a profound bow and 
prostration. The mellow light of the evening sun fell 
across his gaunt, dark features. He took no notice of 
us as we forded the stream near by. 

The country around Tabor is well wooded; the 
mountain itself is clothed in green, though the trees are 
not of large size. Shadows were now darkening the 
valleys, and the sinking sun slanted across our path, that 
zigzagged up among the trees and shrubbery of the 
western side of the mountain. But darkness had settled 
over the country before we arrived at the old fortification 
walls on the summit. The Franciscan hospice is on the 
eastern end of the oval-shaped plateau. The crusaders 
had built walls around the whole top ; and a church on 
the ruins of an older one, which marked the spot of the 
Transfiguration. All these are now in ruins, near the 
hospice. 

We were not a little surprised to find a cavalcade of 
horses tied up on the sides of the road. But that was 

S6 



On Tabor. 



soon explained when we came to the open door of a hall, 
from which lights were gleaming. In the hall a long 
table was set with many plates. About twenty members 
of the Cologne pilgrimage were standing or sitting, some 
of them in lively conversations. Father Custos, whom I 
had seen the day before at Kana, was standing opposite 
the entrance, talking to two of the caravan. He saw me 
enter, but thinking it was only one of the moukars of the 
caravan, took no further notice of me. I had to approach 
and assure him that I was the person he had seen yester- 
day. Then one of the caravan, by the name of Ruf, 
from Bavaria, came up and exclaimed : " O, das ist ja der 
Amerikaner!" Of course the rest of the party, with 
most of whom I had made the trip to Emmaus, now 
crowded up and fully identified me. I was busy answer- 
ing their questions for the next hour during supper. I 
thought most of them looked pretty well worn out by 
their trip. One of them had his arm in a sling, as he had 
sprained it by a fall from his horse. All went to sleep 
early, for they wanted to continue on their way to Tibe- 
rias before sunrise in the morning. 

At four o'clock sleep was cut short by the bustle and 
noise of preparation for their departure. I myself said 
mass in the chapel of the Transfiguration later on, and 
Father Custos showed me around after the caravan had 
left. The plateau of Tabor was first encircled by a wall 
under the Romans by Flavius Josephus, the historian. 
Later on the crusaders extended and strengthened these 
walls. When the Moslems again took possession of 
Palestine, they tore down the church and made great 
additions to the citadel in conformity with Oriental taste. 
The ruins of this citadel still cover a large area of the east 
end of the mount. To judge by these ruins there must 
have been a strong garrison and the commanders must 
have lived in magnificently furnished quarters. On the 
north side of the plateau the Russian monks have their 

87 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

own large establishment. Descending Tabor by the same 
trail on which we had come up, we took a road branching 
off to the left at the foot of the mount. We soon passed 
the village of Tabourieh and crossed a torrent. After 
surmounting three barren mountains on the farther side 
of the torrent, we pursued our way back to Nazareth. I 
was so tired out that I fell asleep on my stumbling nag 
several times. I had made the trip to Tiberias and Tabor 
in about half the usual time. The remaining part of the 
day was devoted to rest and sleep. 

The next day there was quite a change in my mode 
of traveling. Father Hermann Sctnvarzer, of St. Peter's 
Institute in Jerusalem, was about to depart for Haipha 
in a carriage. I made arrangements to go with him. 
A native merchant was also in our company. We en- 
joyed the ride thoroughly, and I incidentally learned a 
little Arabic. He invited me to make a trip in a boat 
on the Jordan from Tiberias to the Dead sea. Of 
course I regretted very much that I could not spare the 
time. The scenery along the road is not so bad for a 
country like Palestine. Coming out of Nazareth over 
the brow of the hills and skirting along the mountains 
that border the plains of Esdrelon, we had some fine 
glimpses of Carmel and the Mediterranean. Reaching 
the plain we stopped at a picturesque khan, where an 
old Greek papa was sitting on a stool. He immediately 
asked me for some stipends. A few miles east of Haipha 
the road crosses the Kison. Along its valley a railroad 
is in course of construction for the last seven or eight 
years. They have already built four or five miles of 
road, and perhaps in fifty or sixty years they will reach 
Tiberias, that is, if they keep up the present rapid con- 
struction. But who can tell? There were at least a 
half dozen men at work on the road as we passed. 

Haipha is a lively town, full of business, though on a 
small scale. It is built on the north side of the long- 

88 



Haipha. 

stretched Carmel. But it is fully two miles distant from 
the end of the promontory, which the mountain forms. 
The shores of the Mediterranean make quite a bend 
around the mountain, so that Haipha is squeezed in 
between the north side of Carmel and the seashore. 

Father Schwarzer betook himself to the convent of the 
Ratisbon German Sisters, while I intended to take lodg- 
ing in the Franciscan hospice in Haipha. But the burly 
brother that opened the door eyed me suspiciously, and 
would have nothing to do with a Bedouin. Evidently 
he suspected that I came for no good intent, and he shut 
the door on me without ceremony. The next best thing 
to do was to try my luck at the door of the great Carmelite 
monastery, about a mile and a half up Mount Carmel. 
The sun was about to sink and its last rays fell upon the 
old buildings, which stood out in bold profile against 
the sky on the western bluffs of the mountain. The 
path leads gradually up the woody sides and passes 
round the front of the promontory. Again the French 
brother that received me was startled at my appearance, 
but I would not be put off so easily this time : I simply 
stayed. Several times during the evening, as he sat 
opposite me and shaking his head, he said : " Pourquoi 
avez vous pris ces habiliments?" He could not under- 
stand why I did not travel in a cassock. To tell the 
truth, his scruples troubled me very little, as long as I 
had prospects of a good meal and a good sleep; they 
did not interfere with these. 



8 9 



CHAPTER XL 

Wooded Carmel — Strolls at Haipha — Forced 
Marches along Mediterranean Shores — Lodg- 
ing in a Khan — Lydda to Jerusalem on the 
"Limited" — Practical Hints. 

On the next morning a German father showed me 
the extensive buildings of the monastery and hospice. 
The origin of this monastery dates back to the time of 
Elias; for, ever since he dwelt in the cave over which 
the church is built, hermits have sought retirement on 
this isolated promontory. Many Essenes or Jewish 
ascetics lived here before the coming of the Messiah. 
After the ascension of Christ, Christians began to inhabit 
the wild caves of the mountain. Since the twelfth cen- 
tury, Carmelite monks have located here. In the grotto 
of Elias the most prominent object is the beautiful 
statue of the Blessed Virgin above the high altar. From 
the roof of the monastery there is an extensive view along 
the shores of the Mediterranean to Akka and Beirout, 
paralleled by the Libanus mountain-chain. 

Brother Ambrose would not hear a word of my re- 
turning alone to Jerusalem along the seacoast. He 
would not even give me any information regarding the 
road, in order not to be accessory to any harm that 
might befall me. He claimed that a lonely traveler 
would certainly be held up by roving bands. As he was 
so inflexible in his opinion, I decided to hunt up Father 
Schwarzer in Haipha. At the convent where he was on 
a visit, the sister would not unlock the iron picket gate 
of the enclosure, when such a strange looking individual 
as myself in Arab clothes desired entrance. But Rev. 

9i 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

Schwarzer soon set them at ease, and told them I was 
not quite as dangerous as I looked. He and the chaplain 
of the convent were just as emphatic in trying to dissuade 
me from going alone to Jerusalem by way of the plains 
of Samaria. But they finally yielded so far as to promise 
to procure a moukar with two horses. I was to set out 
early next morning. 

In the afternoon, Father Schwarzer and I had quite an 
extended walk through the German Protestant Tem- 
plars' settlement and up the long ridge of Mount Carmel. 
Everywhere along the slope of the mountain, the fields 
and vineyards of those thrifty colonists could be seen. 
Their houses, in the western part of Haipha, are sur- 
rounded by gardens, and look very neat. On the eastern 
end of Carmel they have an immense hospice in the 
midst of extensive vineyards. From here we could also 
enjoy a beautiful view of the plains of Esdrelon. The 
Kison, winding in many a graceful bend through the 
green valley, reflected the blue of the evening sky. 
Haipha lay at our feet far below, and the settlement of 
the Templars, with its rows of trees and the bright 
colored houses, contrasted pleasantly with the crumbling 
houses and shops of the Turkish settlement on its east 
end. 

Next morning at sunrise, the moukar brought a fine 
horse, while he himself bestrode a mare, somewhat lame, 
but which kept up a lively pacing nearly the whole day. 
Like all Arabs, he was very monosyllabic, merely beck- 
oning me not to lag behind. Our way led around the 
promontory of Carmel and then through the widening 
plains, which slope gently down the receding mountains 
to the sea. For the first ten or twelve miles the plains 
are pretty well cultivated, and our road was generally a 
mere path through the wheatfields. Our horses every 
now and then could not be restrained from cropping 
some of the ears at the side of the path, nor was my 

92 



Seacoast Plains 



moukar so very anxious to restrain them. The way 
diverged from the seashore, so that at noon time, when 
we held our frugal meal in an immense vineyard, we 
were quite a distance eastward from Caesarea, which 
lies halfway between Haipha and Jaffa, on the shore of 
the Mediterranean. An hour later we came to a dilap- 
idated water-mill by the side of a small stream. I won- 
dered to find even that much enterprise, though the mill 
looked small and primitive enough. Some miles beyond 
this we crossed some marshy stretches, which again gave 
way to groupings of olive and other trees : a region quite 
different from the stony deserts of Judea and Samaria. 
My moukar pushed lustily onward, his limping mare 
always ahead and pacing most of the time. At about 
four o'clock, we had reached the plains of Samaria, 
where a gentle breeze from the sand dunes to the west 
softly swept through the ripening wheatfields around us. 
The soil must be very productive here and the people 
more industrious than in other parts of Palestine. 

My moukar got into scarcely distinguishable by- 
paths and changed directions several times, evidently 
puzzled as to the right way. Ruinous villages were 
visible in the plains and on the hillsides, towards one of 
which we were tending at setting of the sun. I was in 
hopes it would prove to be the stopping place for the 
night, for we had been laboriously traveling since early 
morning. But the moukar hastened past a group of 
natives gathered at the well outside the walls, and pointed 
to a lonely building in a wide plain. At this khan we 
arrived at dusk and were received by a Turk in some 
kind of old uniform. The building consisted of four 
walls, enclosing a square courtyard, and so arranged as 
to form sheds for beasts toward the interior. Above one 
of these sheds one solitary small room was supposed to 
furnish shelter for travelers. I was not slow in dis- 
mounting and crossing the filthy courtyard to the sump- 

93 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

-____—■■_» __— __ — — _ — — • ■___=____. _____ _______ _______ ______ __■ >__^___^____^^_^_i^^_. 

tuous lodging upstairs. As I pushed open the door, 
three rude couches, a stool, and a rickety table gave but 
faint prospects of rest to tired limbs. But there was at 
least one of nature's best refreshments to be had: cool 
water. Immediately outside the door on the roof of 
the shed, a huge waterwheel was slowly revolving on its 
wooden axles driven by a mule downstairs. Creaking 
and groaning, it laboriously brought up small buckets 
full of water from the well and automatically emptied 
them into a trough. A stream of this water entered the 
room at one corner and flowed in an open gutter on the 
floor and out through an opening at the opposite end. 
Here it splattered down into a large stone reservoir out- 
side the walls of the house to be distributed for irrigation 
through the adjoining fields. I thought it a fine arrange- 
ment and I immediately procured the luxury of a cool 
footbath in the running stream. 

But I waited in vain for something to eat, and not 
until I had hunted up my moukar, did the keeper bring 
up a little of the pancake-bread, no better than that 
which I had refused to eat on the first two days of my 
trip. In addition, also some eggs, fried in dirty grease, 
and a tin-cup full of coffee. The moukar and myself 
partook of this frugal meal; that is, I tried to make my 
moukar eat it all, if possible, for I had not yet arrived at 
such a point of starvation as to relish the disgusting 
victuals. He was not at all slow to seize such an advant- 
age. A third, most ragged inmate had entered and 
thrown himself on one of the couches, while the moukar 
and myself sought the others. However, I soon found 
out, that if these couches were not padded with blocks 
of wood, they must have been lined with harder and 
more uneven boulders. Music also was not wanting in 
this hostelry ; besides the insidious songs of bloodthirsty 
gnats, my moukar and the other inmate vied in stentori- 
ous .snores in all varieties of deepfelt expression, min- 

94 



At Lydda, 



uendos, crescendos, and fortissimos, — literally "to beat 
the band" of mosquitos. Many times during the night 
I turned on that merciless couch, where even weariness 
could not woo the blessed sleep. 

Next morning we found ourselves again astride of 
our horses traversing the gentle undulations of Samaria. 
Early in the forenoon, a large caravan of camels heralded 
their approach from afar by their peculiar odor. The 
Arabs smear some kind of grease or tar over the skin of 
the camels in order to protect them from flies and from 
the exposure of travel. This, of course, does not add 
any particular attractiveness to a herd of these patient 
animals. Some miles farther, one of the camels had been 
left to its fate by the Arabs, probably because its days of 
service were at an end. About noon, Lydda, where I was 
to take the train for Jerusalem, hove into distant view. 
Miles and miles of the finest wheatfields lay yet between, 
and it seems that here the fruitfulness of the Holy Land 
is fully up to its old record. Around Lydda large olive 
orchards, fenced by high cactus hedges, lined both sides 
of the road. Lydda is but a collection of the usual 
ruinous huts, though in the first century it was the centre 
of an important diocese and, no doubt, a large town. 
St. George was born here, and for several centuries his 
body rested in a large and beautiful church. Now there 
is only a crumbling Greek chapel on the site of the former 
cathedral. The habitation of the Russian monks, who 
have charge of this spot, stands near by in no better 
condition. 

The railroad station is about one mile from the 
village. I had just enough gold left to give the moukar 
two napoleons and pay the fare to Jerusalem. I was 
yet in time for an extra train, entirely empty, which on 
its return was to carry some hundreds of Russian pil- 
grims back to Jaffa. On the train I could stretch 
myself in full length upon the vacant benches, until we 

95 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

reached Jerusalem. At the hospice, the first one who 
welcomed me was Ali, and I learnt that my absence had 
caused some apprehension. My traveling companion 
had in the meanwhile suffered a severe attack of the 
fever peculiar to Jerusalem, and had been out of the 
house only twice during the ten days of my absence. 
He had many words of praise for the excellent care taken 
of him during his sickness. It seems he had also worried 
a great deal about my safety. 

Practical Hints. To a Christian traveler the Holy Land 
must always be the most interesting land on earth. For here 
our Salvation was begun, and here is, as it were, the focus of all 
the world's history and of civilization. But in order to arrive at 
a true estimate of the things seen in the Holy Land, it is absolutely 
necessary to be somewhat informed of the history of the Jews and 
of the Christian faith. Moreover, all must be viewed in the light 
of faith. Thousands of tourists depart after a few days' stay, 
entirely disgusted with the ruinous appearance of many remark- 
able spots, the warring and strife between different religions, the 
poverty and degradation of the inhabitants. Thus, instead of 
seeing their ideals of the holy places realized, they find them 
entirely destroyed. But let the traveler look beneath the surface 
and try to account for the conditions, and he will depart strength- 
ened in faith and even much edified. In order to obtain such a 
result, it is necessary to make a longer stay. No visit to Palestine 
is complete without including the tour to Jericho, Bethlehem, and 
Nazareth, at least. Traveling in a caravan is expensive and soon 
irksome. It is better to incur a little more trouble and hardship, 
and make the trip with a moukar. Of course carrying tents is 
then out of the question. The company of one or two friends will 
make the trip still more pleasant. The expenses of a trip with a 
moukar are not high. The dangers of being robbed are probably 
much exaggerated by tourist agencies and dragomen, who would, 
of course, lose customers by the more venturesome mode of travel. 
I do not see what three or four healthy Europeans would need to 
fear from the roving Bedouins, even if there would be a band of 
them. Besides, if they dress in poor garb, they would be in no 
danger, even singly. Plunder is what attracts the Bedouin. He 
will not seek it, where none is evident. 



96 



CHAPTER XII. 

Ecce Homo Arch — Saint Anne's Tomb — The 
Cave of the Agony — Russian Foresight — 
Among Old Tombs and Monuments — St. Peter's 
Institute — Caverns of Jerusalem. 

After a short rest we were again on our tour of visits 
to notable places in and around Jerusalem. One of our 
first was to the church and convent of Ecce Homo. The 
arch of the Ecce Homo is said to be a remnant of the 
platform on which the perfidious Pilate exhibited the 
Savior in a red military cloak after the scourging, and 
the crowning with thorns. It is about thirty feet high 
and curves from the right side of the narrow street into 
the wall of the recently built chapel of the Ratisbon 
convent, which is only a short distance from our hospice 
along the street running straight to St. Stephen's gate. 
What a fearful sight it must have been for the few faith- 
ful souls, to see our Savior standing on the high porch, 
streaming with blood, his body only half covered by the 
loose mantle, and his very skull pierced by the long 
thorns of the horrid crown; and how the cry: " Crucify 
Him, crucify Him," from the infatuated populace must 
have resounded like echoes from deepest hell! How ter- 
ribly the curse of his blood has descended upon the race 
and all their children! Throughout the world they are 
now scattered, without temple, without worship, without 
hope of return to the land of their forefathers. Against 
their will they are witnesses of the power of Him whom 
they then despised. 

Some rods farther along the same street, amid heaps 
of ruins, are some very old tombs, which the Moslems 

97 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

hold in high veneration. This does not mean, however, 
that they lavish much care on the outward appearance 
of the tombs. They are allowed to fall to ruin no less 
than the crumbling walls around them. Going out of 
St. Stephen's gate and crossing the Kidron, one comes 
to a level piece of ground, paved with stone flags. One 
of the Franciscans told us, that no doubt most interesting 
remains will be found beneath them if once they can 
obtain possession and start excavations on the spot. 
On one side of this level plat rises the front wall of one of 
the oldest churches in Jerusalem. It is the reputed tomb 
of the Virgin Mary. The body of the church is buried 
almost to the eaves beneath the accumulated debris. 
From the above mentioned court, a pavement leads down 
to a wide flight of marble stairs, descending about thirty 
feet to the original floor of the church. The church was 
formerly in charge of the Franciscans, but is now in the 
hands of the Russian monks and of the Armenians. 

It is seldom opened for visitors, but profiting of such 
an occasion a few days later, we joined the crowds of 
pilgrims, that were attending service in honor of the 
Blessed Virgin. Half way down the stairs, in niches 
built off a break in the descent, are the tombs of St. 
Joachim and Anne to the right, and of St. Joseph to the 
left. The body of the church is entirely dark, for the 
debris outside rises higher than the windows. Only the 
open door above and the flickering light of the candles 
dispelled some of the darkness within. The church is 
built in the shape of a cross, formed by caves on three 
ends, and the stairs on the fourth. The drawling chant 
of the Armenian priests sounded up to us from the right 
arm of the church. Pressing through the crowd we saw 
the red-robed priests officiating before a monument or 
tomb. The light of candles shone from the openings of 
this tomb and lit up the faces of the bystanders. The 
priests had to stoop almost to the ground in order to 

98 



Tomb of Mary. 



enter through the small opening to the interior of the 
tomb. They were chanting alternate responses with 
the choir outside. While we wormed our way through 
the worshipers, there was a sudden commotion in front : 
two priests came out through the narrow opening of the 
tomb bearing two chalices to an altar in the background. 
One of them with a golden spoon, dealt out morsels 
steeped in some liquid to the people. They came up 
and stood before him with their hands dangling down 
their sides. I did not think their way of dealing out 
holy communion particularly reverend. The people be- 
gan to squeeze into the narrow opening on the side of the 
tomb and file out at the other end; we among the rest. 

The interior of the tomb presents nothing remarkable, 
except the brilliant illumination. Beneath a slab or 
table of marble, fitting into a recess, is said to be the 
last resting place of Mary. Here lay the sacred body of 
the Virgin and from this spot, reunited to her immaculate 
soul, it was assumed into heaven to be seated at the right 
hand of her son, as Queen of the universe. What a 
glorious sight it will be for us, if we shall once be 
privileged to see Her in her glory! That alone would 
be worth more than the possession and enjoyment of 
all the rest of the created things. To the left of the 
stairs is a well, the waters of which are held sacred. 
This church dates back to the time of Constantine and 
was always in possession of the Latins; but by the 
united rapacity of the Russians, Armenians, and Copts, 
the Franciscans have been deprived of its custody. 
Confusion and neglect surround the tomb of the Virgin 
in consequence. The vault of the whole interior is black 
with soot and dirt and no attempt is made to decorate 
in a befitting manner so sacred a place. 

On the same morning I said Mass in the grotto of the 
Agony, which is only fifty steps or so from the tomb of 
Mary. It is a very large cave of oval shape. In the 

99 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

rear stands the altar, where colored lights are maintained 
day and night by the Franciscan brother, who is in charge. 
On the rough rocks above are still seen the remains of 
ancient paintings. Under this dark roof, prostrate on the 
hard rocks, Jesus began his passion. Three times He 
interrupted his prayers in order to console his apostles, 
who were lying under the olive trees outside. While we 
were there several Russian pilgrims came in. The princi- 
pal part of their devotion seems to consist in making the 
sign of the cross and kissing the ground or any object 
which happens to strike their fancy. They make the 
sign of the cross from right to left. Shaggy these men 
and women look, with their heavy top boots and coarse 
clothing. They are harmless in their simplicity and 
full of happiness in being privileged to see the holy places. 
The paternal Russian government pays most of the 
expenses of their journey, well knowing that they are 
but forerunners of the hundred thousands, that -will rise 
to wrest Palestine from the hands of the Turks. No 
doubt these Russian peasants return to their native 
provinces as missionaries for a holy war of conquest 
against the Turk. 

The garden of Gethsemane is only some hundred 
yards from this grotto, nearer to the torrent of Kidron. 
The little postern gate, which we had found locked on 
Holy Thursday night, was now opened as we knocked. 
A gravel walk leads around along the quadrangular walls 
and the centre of the garden is enclosed by a picket fence. 
Stations of the cross are placed in niches of the outer wall 
and inside the picket fence some flowerbeds filled out 
the space between the knarled olive trees. The olive 
trees look old enough to have been standing at the time 
of Christ, though this is not ascertainable. A Franciscan 
brother lives in a cell near the hothouse. He entertained 
us with a glass of wine and gave us some flowers for 
preservation. 

ioo 



On Mt. Olivet. 



From the garden we wound our way up the rain-worn 
path to the top of Mount Olivet. It is the highest moun- 
tain around Jerusalem and the summit is an almost oval 
plateau a half mile long. The Russians own pretty well 
the whole summit of Olivet, with the exception of a 
cluster of ruinous Arab houses on the slope towards 
Jerusalem. On the western end extensive walls enclose 
a large garden and convent of Russians, and on the 
eastern end stands the church of the Ascension, flanked 
by a bell tower, which is very likely intended to serve as 
a Russian observation tower in time of war. In the 
church, Russian popes are chanting some kind of service 
with their customary frequent use of incense. The 
church is octagonal in form and most beautifully frescoed. 
In spite of the high wind that was blowing, I desired to 
climb the tower, which is about 30 feet square all the 
way up and nearly 200 feet high. Ostensibly, it seems to 
have been built for no other purpose than to support a 
chime of bells. But as it stands on the highest part of 
the country, it will serve as an observation tower for the 
whole region. 

From its top one has a vast view of the surrounding 
country. To the west the Holy City lies spread out, the 
bare spot of the ancient temple grounds contrasting with 
the confused jumble of ruinous houses of the city. Beyond 
the further wall, the Russian settlement stands out prom- 
inently, with the great hospice and the convents as a 
centre. On clear days Ramleh and Jaffa, on the edge 
of the blue Mediterranean, can be seen. To the left and 
behind the plains of Jericho, the dead sea, and farther 
north, Moab and Harmon gleamed in the sunlight. To 
the northeast, Carmel and Libanus girt the plain of 
Esdrelon. As I descended the wind almost carried me 
out of the high gothic windows, which are left entirely 
open. The interior construction of the tower is of iron, 
and the outside shows uncommon architectural beauty. 

101 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

From the tower we passed through the village to the 
place whence the Savior ascended into heaven. It 
lies a little lower down the hill and is covered by an 
octagonal mosque inside of an enclosure. The Fran- 
ciscans are allowed to hold services within the enclosure 
once a year on Ascension day. The mosque is small 
and neglected, entirely bare. The ragged keeper showed 
us a stone in the center, imbedded in the ground, or more 
likely forming part of the natural rock. On this stone 
were the impressions of two feet, which are said to have 
been left by Christ as he ascended into heaven. I found, 
however, very little resemblance of footprints in the 
indentures; perhaps the marks have become disfigured 
in the course of centuries or through the vandalism of 
pilgrims. There is nothing unreasonable or improbable 
in the assertion, that such marks have been left by the 
Savior and by holy men on particular occasions, though 
sometimes superstition and the hope of gain will give 
rise to spurious fabrication of marks of the kind. 

Descending on the road to the left, we passed the 
caves where St. Pelagia did penance for many years. 
Further on is the church of the Pater Noster and 
Credo, with the convent of the Carmelite nuns, where 
Jesus wept over the reprobate city. The Temple 
grounds are in full view and the city lies spread out 
beyond them. Beneath us, skirting the declivities of 
the city walls, gaped the valley of Josaphat, and merging 
into the valley of Hinom to the left. Far below on the 
banks of the Kidron rose Absalom's tomb. We de- 
scended to the brook and clambered up through the 
rugged cavities of the monument. It seems to have 
been cut out entirely from the native rock. The lower 
part is in the. shape of a square kiosk, surmounted by a 
bottle-shaped top. It must be fully sixty feet high. No 
sort of care is taken of it, and the interior is full of 
crumbling stones. Aside of it is the tomb of St. James, 

102 



R AMBLINGS. 



also hewn out of the rock in the form of a small Greek 
temple. Ascending the other side of the Kidron, we 
came to the city walls, where some of the original stones 
of the temple of Solomon are still visible. Moslem 
graves cover nearly the whole declivity of the mountain 
along the city walls. Among these graves we stumbled, 
following the walls to St. Stephen's gate. x\t the hospice 
all was bustle and excitement to prepare for the arrival 
of 522 Austrian pilgrims from the diocese of Linz. The 
largest portion of these, with Bishop Doppelbauer at 
their head, were to lodge at our hospice. 

In the afternoon our search for mail brought us again 
near the Jaffa gate. Mail service in the Turkish domin- 
ions is something very uncertain and therefore the 
Austrian, the English, and the German governments 
maintain separate post offices in Jerusalem, which insure 
some kind of safety, (though not any great expedition) 
to the mail from foreign countries. I had to wait three 
weeks after getting my letter of instruction, before I 
could obtain the payment of a money order in the Aus- 
trian post office. 

I wished to visit Father Schwarzer, who by this time 
must have returned from Haipha. In order to reach 
St. Peter's institute for boys, of which he was in charge, 
we crossed the Mohammedan graveyards around the 
birket Mamilla, or tank of Solomon. This is an immense 
square reservoir, hewn thirty feet into the solid rock. 
It is now dried out. In this neighborhood the angel of 
God struck down 185,000 of Sennacherib's besieging 
army. Beyond, on a gently sloping hill, lies St. Peter's 
Institute. The father was glad to see me and returned 
to me the articles and the money which I had given in 
his keeping at Haipha. The classes and workshops of 
the boys were closed, it being a holiday ; but we saw the 
interior of the extensive buildings and admired the 
beauty of the chapel. This is one of the several grand 

103 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

institutions, which Ratisbonne founded after his mir- 
aculous conversion in Rome. 

Diverting on our return toward the Damascus gate, 
we came upon the grand basilica of the Dominicans. 
It is reared on the foundations of an ancient church in 
honor of St. Stephen. Twenty feet of rubbish had to be 
cleared away in order to bring to the light of day the 
curious mosaics of the original floor. Parts of these are 
incorporated with the fine mosaics of the present pave- 
ment. In the middle of the basilica a crypt is restored, 
which probably once contained the relics of St. Stephen. 
A number of the doric pillars rest upon the original 
pedestals. This church is no doubt the finest and the 
most costly in Jerusalem. 

Not far from this church are the remarkable exca- 
vations called the tombs of the kings. They are a reg- 
ular city of the dead, carved thirty feet deep out of the 
solid rocks. A wide stairs led down to two different 
divisions. The first one is filled about half with water, 
the other compartment is honeycombed on one of its 
four sides with small cells, which formerly contained 
the sarcophagi of the kings. In some of them the 
sarcophagi are still standing, rifled however, of their 
contents. Thus the ashes of the kings, that tried to 
hide themselves away after death, have been scattered 
to the winds, while thousands of their more humble 
subjects are still resting in their graves undisturbed. 
Returning through the dusk, we were curious to know 
more of a fine church and parsonage, which we had 
noticed on the way out. Many well dressed Europeans 
had just come out of the building. We found out from 
the attendant, that it was the Protestant Episcopal church, 
and presided over by Bishop Cheney. He had just given 
confirmation to a number of young people. The interior 
was finely decorated, but there was nothing in it which 
could be venerated as sacred, as in Catholic churches. 

104 



Austrian Pilgrims. 



The vast grotto of Jeremias is some hundreds of yards 
eastward of the Damascus gate. The Moslem in charge 
showed us the stone ledge, which Jeremias used at a 
couch. The large cavern in the side of the hill, at even 
ground with the entrance, is connected by a passage to 
the left with another cave underground, in which Jere- 
mias w r as imprisoned. It is now filled with water: a 
stone thrown into it resounded with a hollow splash, 
which gloomily reverberated through the subterranean 
darkness. 

When we came to the hospice the Austrian pilgrims 
had arrived. During their stay we were placed at the 
table opposite to the bishop, who is a very affable man. 
The Rev. Rector Czarski had assigned us a room next 
to his own, and w^e w T ere scarcely inconvenienced by the 
great crowds that now filled every available space of the 
building. For the following morning we had made 
arrangements for our trip to Jericho and the Dead Sea. 



105 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Surrounded by Lepers — A Howling Wilderness — 
To the Dead Sea — A Plunge in the Jordan — 
In the Clefts of Quarantanla. — Greek Hos- 
pitality — Robbers' Inn and Bethany — With 
the Austrian Pilgrims — In the Cenacle — 
Unsaddled. 

A burly Arab driver by the name of Mahomet had 
charge of the carriage in which we made our trip to 
Jericho. Noisily the wheels rattled over the cobbles to 
St. Stephen's gate. A bevy of lepers were sitting and 
lying in the bright sunshine along the road as we moved 
down the hill to the Kidron bridge. We threw some of 
them a few metaliques. No sooner had those farther 
behind and ahead seen this, than a howl rose from their 
midst. Those that were able to move surrounded the 
carriage, stretching out their leprous hands, and some 
of them even grasping hold of our garments in order to 
obtain an equal share of the alms. Mahomet uncere- 
moniously threatened them with his whip before he 
could drive through their midst and escape. The 
macadam road, built in honor of the German Emperor's 
visit to Jericho, leads around the south side of Mount 
Olivet to the ruins of Bethany, down the deep ravine 
to the Apostles' fountain, and some six miles farther to 
the government khan of the good Samaritan. It will be 
more convenient to speak of them later on. 

All this country from Bethany to the plains of Jericho 
is a howling wilderness. No spring or any kind of 
stream is found from the Apostles' well to the Nahr-el- 
Kelt, about three miles beyond the khan of the good 

107 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

Samaritan. The Nahr-el-Kelt is a ravine, eaten through 
the rocks by a small stream which takes its rise near the 
road. It is the most rugged ravine I had yet seen, sur- 
passing even the wild gulches of the Wasatch mountains 
in Utah. Sheerly down through the broken granite 
rocks the slender stream leaps from ledge to ledge, having 
formed for itself a mere cleft through the mountains to 
the plains of Jericho. About a mile from where we 
stood, a monastery is built on the ledges of the ravine, 
three or four hundred feet above the bottom. The 
buildings were mere stone huts, leaning against the cliffs, 
and they seemed altogether inaccessible. They are 
tenanted by Russian monks. 

A mile farther on brought us to the edge of the 
mountains. The road here makes a steep and dan- 
gerous descent to the plains of Jericho. In the ruined 
village of Jericho, there are three lodging-houses, all 
bitter rivals. Mahomet seemed to stand in with the 
young man who runs the Gilgal hotel, and we did not 
object to his bringing us there for our dinner and lodging. 
The slopes running up from the Dead sea and the Jordan 
are entirely barren, except where the ground is irrigated 
by the fountain of Elisha. 

In the afternoon Mahomet drove helter skelter over 
these plains to the Dead sea, raising clouds of dust. 
The nearer we came to the sea, the more arid and dusty 
grew the roads and the country around. The Dead sea 
looks like any other lake from afar. The waters are 
grayish blue, and perfectly clear. On the farther side 
the mountains of Moab rise like a wall of bare rocks, 
while to the south only a blue ridge is dimly visible above 
the glittering waters. Being alone we took a bath. The 
water is so heavy that it is impossible to sink. Lying 
flat, half the body is always out of the water. But if the 
feet are raised, the head immediately sinks beneath the 
surface and the brine will enter the nose and mouth. 

108 



The Jordan. 



The skin is coated with salt in a short time ; this causes a 
disagreeable sensation, unless it is washed off with fresh 
water. Just as we had partly dressed, another carriage 
came up with a Greek papa and a woman. Without 
much ado the papa undressed, leaving the woman in the 
carriage within a few steps of the shore. He made great 
ado in the shallow water before he plunged in to swim. 

About three miles in a northeasterly direction is the 
place where the Israelites crossed the Jordan. Only 
scattered sage brushes are met with along the road before 
reaching the Jordan. There a species of tamarack and 
poplar forms thick bushes on the banks of the river. The 
river banks are very muddy. I sank into the mud to my 
knees, while bathing. The river is about forty yards 
wide, very deep, muddy, and swift running. Very often 
careless bathers meet their death in this place. Again 
the Greek papa came up with the lady, and stripped to 
take a plunge. Afterwards we hired a boatman to take 
us a little distance up the river. I was sorry not to be 
able to extend this boatride up to Lake Genesareth, and 
hoped I could do so on a future occasion. The short 
distance was exceedingly romantic. What a wall of 
water must have gathered to the north of this place, 
when the Jordan stood still, until the vast host of the 
Israelites had crossed, and how^ the waters must have 
rushed down again into the dry 7 bed, when this was 
accomplished! 

Driving home as the sun sank over the western hills, 
we met some shepherds and some reapers. The latter 
carried huge sheaves of grain home on their backs, re- 
minding us of the words of the psalmist: "Venientes 
autem venient cum exultatione, portantes manipulas 
suos." We forded the Nahr-el-Kelt, which we had ad- 
mired in the morning among the hills. In this neigh- 
borhood the Israelites encamped after crossing the 
Jordan, but nothing remains of Gilgal, and the memorial 

109 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

of twelve stones, which they set up. A large Russian 
convent, that of St. John, lies to the left at a few miles 
distance. Robbers infest these plains, for a young Ger- 
man, who stopped at our hotel, told me that he had two 
horses stolen from him on the plains of Jericho by 
marauding Arabs. Arriving at the hotel, we were sur- 
prised to see the Greek papa with his fair young lady 
sitting at table with us. Next morning before sunrise 
we drummed up the unwilling Mahomet to take us to 
Elisha's or Sultan's fountain, not far from Quarantine 
Mount. Its water runs close by Jericho and causes a 
streak of rich vegetation to spring up along its course. 
Flowering rhododendron lined the road in some places, 
and reminded us of balmy spring mornings of other 
countries. The abundant stream of pure water collects 
in a reservoir, from which it is branched off in different 
conduits to water the fields on the slopes. Ever since 
Eliseus changed its unwholesome water three thousand 
years ago, it has poured out refreshing streams over 
the arid plains of Jericho. The first rays of the sun 
rising over Moab, tinged the summit of Quarantania 
and the Greek convent leaning against the red rocks 
about midway up the declivities. The summit of this, 
the highest and most rugged of the Judean mountains, 
is now crowned by an irregular wall, enclosing the spot 
of the third temptation of Christ. In spite of the unwil- 
lingness of Mahomet to wait, we began our ascent. A 
stream traverses the foothills in the foreground, and in 
some valleys herds were grazing, and a few field laborers 
were already at work. Ruins of ancient Jericho are yet 
traceable on some of the foothills. At the foot of the 
mountain stands a house surrounded by gardens. It 
belongs to the monastery on the mount, and furnishes 
vegetables for the community. From here a very steep, 
zigzag trail leads up to the monastery, which seems liter- 
ally suspended from the ledges of the rocks. 

no 



QUARANTANIA. 



Panting from the exertion of the steep climb, we 
arrived at the rude door or gate and were admitted by 
the porter, who is on the watch for visitors. He treated 
us with arrack and a delicious cup of mocha. The nar- 
row cells of the monks are mere cave abutments hewn 
into rocky walls of the mountain. A guide led us through 
narrow passages to the cave in which Jesus is said to 
have fasted for forty days. Beneath this cave is a larger 
one in which Elias lived for a while. It is almost inac- 
cessible except by ladders or ropes. The long-haired 
Greek produced a ponderous key to open a gate, which 
gives access to the continuation of the path up to the 
summit. This has been enclosed recently by a stone wall ; 
but there is nothing to mark the spot of the third temp- 
tation except a rude shed, and near it a large cross. The 
plains of Jericho and the valley of the Jordan lay now 
in full view beneath. Where the Jordan wound its way 
through the valley there is a streak of beautiful green, 
contrasting with the arid waste of the plain. The sun 
had risen high toward the zenith, and shot down burning 
rays as we climbed down again to reach the carriage. 
We wanted to return to Jerusalem that day. Ma- 
homet at first strenuously refused. The horses would 
not stand the exertion, he said. I suspect he merely 
wanted to play into the hands of the hotel-keeper by 
lengthening our stay. We had already resigned our- 
selves and were about to lie down for a siesta, when our 
offer of an extra bakshish had done its work. He now 
urged us to return to Jerusalem. His previous objec- 
tions, however, were not all unfounded, for the mid-day 
heat, reflected from the rocks, almost overcame man 
and beast, as we climbed afoot up the first ascent to the 
Judean mountains. Mahomet made a stop of over an 
hour at the khan of the good Samaritan. This is an 
enclosure of about an acre for beasts of burden, with a 
rude shack for the accommodation of travelers. It is 

in 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

maintained by the government, but the only refresh- 
ment to be had in these khans is a cup of coffee. The 
country ten miles around is a howling wilderness of 
rocky mountains, an ideal place for such an incident as 
is related in the parable of the good Samaritan. On 
the hill behind the khan the ruins of an old fort can be 
seen. 

We did not stop at the Apostles' inn, which is merely 
a small house inhabited by some enterprising native 
near a brackish fountain not far from Bethany. In 
this neighborhood the apostles are said to have often 
met after the Ascension of Christ. Bethany is scarcely 
two miles farther along the road,, pretty well up on the 
east side of Mount Olivet. A ragged .Arab is always on 
the lookout for strangers, to show them the tomb of Laz- 
arus and the ruins of Lazarus' and Simon's house. He 
gave us some dirt}' candle stumps and preceded us down 
the series of caves, which form the tomb. Not the least 
sign of care or veneration is to be seen. Heaps of dirt 
and rubbish cover the stairs and the bottom of the caves. 
The tomb itself, from which Lazarus was called forth, 
is full of filth. We left disgusted, to have a look at the 
site of the two houses mentioned above. They are now 
covered with the nuns of chapels, probably built by the 
crusaders. Having reached St. Stephen's gate, Ma- 
homet rattled in great style over the broken pavement 
to the hospice. When we alighted I found that I had 
lost my notebook on the way. Though I made even- 
effort to recover it, I never saw it any more. However, 
as its contents covered only a short period of my journey, 
I replaced it pretty well with a synopsis from memory. 

We were just in time to accompany the Austrian pil- 
grims on their visit to Mount Sion. Our first stop was 
made at the large .Armenian convents and gardens, only 
a short distance beyond the tower of David. The 
fumes of incense filled the large church of St. James, 

112 



With the Austriaxs. 



which is built on the spot where he was decapitated. It 
is profusely decorated with tiles of different colors, and 
the altars and cornices are richly gilded. But there is 
not much taste either in the coloring nor the decoration 
of any church in the hands of the Oriental Christians. 
Real art after all seems to flourish only where the Cath- 
olic church has laid its foundations, and where European 
influence has been brought to bear. After crossing 
several paved courts and lanes, we were shown the house 
of Annas, or rather the church erected upon its site. 
Here also the Armenian monks were just finishing their 
services. To the right of the altar they showed a bare 
niche in the wall in which they claimed Jesus was im- 
prisoned during the night of his trial. Leaving these 
places, one of the Austrian priests reproached some of 
the laymen for venerating and kissing the places shown 
them by the .Armenian monks. I loudly protested 
against his overscrupulousness, maintaining that it is 
not so much a question of the authenticity of the place, 
as of the sacred memory connected with it. 

We left the Armenian enclosures, which seem to be 
the most extensive of all those owned by the different 
divisions of Christians, and proceeded through the 
gate of Sion to the Ccenaculum. We were cautioned by 
the guides not to perform any exterior acts of devotion, 
as the Moslems would make trouble if we did. The 
pilgrims were not even to go up into the little room 
where on a former occasion I had seen the bogus tomb 
of David. Thus the barbaric Turk lords it over the 
Christians! 

Early in the morning after Mass we mounted a pair of 
asses to ride in the fresh morning air to Bethany. I 
had some hopes of finding my notebook in the cave of 
Lazarus. Our search there was in vain, but the old 
Moslem guide told me that about a hundred French pil- 
grims had visited the cave yesterday after we had been 

"3 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

there. I fondly hoped that I might receive it from one 
of them later on. But in order not to leave any stone un- 
turned for its recovery, I decided to go as far as the khan 
of the good Samaritan. So I pursued my way to that 
place alone, and might have fared just as bad as the 
wounded man in the parable on this lonely way, if the 
robbers had only performed their part of the business. 
Some way or other, however, we missed connections. 
No trace of the robbers nor of the notebook. 

It seems my mule wanted to make up for the loss of 
incident by an extra display of mulishness. On the 
way back he began to fall into a snail's pace. Neither 
the urgings of an impatient tongue, nor the spurring of 
the heel, or the swishing of the whip would he mind. 
He insisted on taking the outermost edge of the road, 
threatening to throw me over the precipice, or, when 
jerked away, he scraped my knee against the sharp pro- 
jections of the overhanging rocks on the other side of the 
road. Then again he would suddenly duck his head and 
rub his nose against the dusty roadway, almost throwing 
me over his shoulder. Finally he reached the climax by 
flopping down with rider and all on the dusty road-bed 
and refusing to get up in spite of whip and spur. For 
some time I stood at his side in the mid-day heat per- 
fectly at a loss. The recumbent beast kept wagging 
his ears in the most nonchalant manner. But there is 
nothing like a bluff, especially in Turkey, and as an 
American I thought I would try it on a mule. Going 
back about twenty paces I spread out my haik and 
shouting an Indian warwhoop, I rushed upon him with 
a running jump. Before I landed on his haunches, he 
had jumped up as if struck by lightning, and, facing 
around, stared at me with wagging ears. The bluff 
had worked like a charm. 

Doggedly he moved on until we reached a turn in the 
road. A small distance ahead I saw a dilapidated 

114 



MULISHNESS. 



brother of his lying right in the middle of the road. My 
mule must have been so busy scheming new rebellion 
that he did not see his brother ass until he was only a 
step from him. The other made a feeble effort to rise. 
Like a blast of gunpowder, mine made a jump into the 
air, and I, taken unawares, flew into space and landed 
helter-skelter on the dusty road. He himself stood about 
five paces away, cocking his ears at his crippled brother. 
I must have been quite a ludicrous sight in the black haik, 
streaked with the chalky dust of the road. My long- 
eared companion seemed to feel himself sufficiently 
revenged in bringing me to the dust, and without further 
violence finally brought me home. 



"5 



CHAPTER XIV. 

The Pilgrims' Soxg — St. Peter's Memory among 
Protestants — Ain Karem and Surroundings 

— Golgotha and Environs — Its Complex of 
Churches — The Rotunda over the Sepulchre 

— Catholic and Greek Church Near It — 
Subterranean Chapels — Chapel of the Cru- 
cifixion AND OF THE DEATH OF CHRIST. 

I shall never forget the solemn song of the Austrian 
pilgrims making the Via Dolorosa that evening. I 
was sitting at the open window and their song echoed 
along the street outside, suggesting oceans of sorrow. 
It brought vividly to my mind the song of the pilgrims 
in the opera of "Die Meistersaenger." I wondered at 
the similarity of the impressions caused by the fiction 
in the past and the reality in the present. 

The only sacred place which the English-speaking 
Protestants seem to possess in Jerusalem is the prison 
where St. Peter was detained by Herod. It belongs to 
the English mission in the Jewish quarter of Jerusalem. 
Under one of the buildings, which they use as a printing 
establishment, is a cellar or vault where the staples are 
still shown to which the chains of St. Peter, now in Rome, 
were fastened. This, according to Catholic notions, 
would be a place well worth keeping in sacred memory. 
I expected to see some signs of veneration in it, but was 
sadly disappointed. In the time of the crusaders there 
was a chapel built over it. In the hands of the Pro- 
testants it is turned into a cellar for vegetables. The 
irons, which once held St. Peter, are now covered with 
the remains of decaying vegetables, and the other parts 

117 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

of the prison adjoining are used for a wood-shed. A 
Moslem is too lazy to keep sacred places free from dirt, 
and his religion does not allow him any profuse decora- 
tions, but he will never permit such a place to be put to 
profane use, and he will make you take off your shoes 
before entering. No such regard is paid by the English 
Protestant. St. Peter was no war hero or great states- 
man of theirs. In Cawnpore, they have built a grand 
monument over the well in which some of the victims 
of their war of conquest were thrown. They made us 
talk in a whisper in the park surrounding it. Thousands 
of places are adorned with monuments and memorial 
churches, and consume millions yearly in their preser- 
vation. Here in Jerusalem the English Protestants 
happen to be in possession of just one place of sacred 
memory, and this they leave in a most shameful condi- 
tion of neglect. I say this in no bitterness, but only in 
order to give vent to my feeling of regret that Saint 
Peter's memory should be thus loaded with insult. Do 
Protestants owe nothing to Saint Peter, the head of the 
apostles ? 

In the morning of the last Sunday of our stay in 
Jerusalem, Mahomet, our favorite driver, stood ready 
with his carriage in order to take us out to Ain Karem, 
the birthplace of St. John and the scene of the visitation 
of the Blessed Virgin. Lustily he rattled on to the gate 
of Damascus, scattering the laggard foot-passengers to 
right and left. A few miles out the scenery becomes 
quite pleasing, especially toward the valley that runs in 
the direction of Bethlehem. The road winds down the 
hillside, supported by a high embankment, and Ain 
Karem presented a very cheerful sight, with its neat 
houses, its eight or ten churches, some of them over- 
topped by high steeples. On the spot where Mary first 
met Elizabeth on her visit, the Franciscans are in charge 
of a fine church and monastery. High mass was going 

118 



Ain Karem. 



on when we entered. At the end a procession with 
the blessed Sacrament was held, in which the natives 
joined, singing the Te Deum in Arabic. To the left of 
the high altar is the crypt and sanctuary, the meeting 
place of the Mother of God with her cousin Elizabeth. 
Here for the first time resounded the sublimest of all 
anthems, the Magnificat, and from that blessed tongue, 
which also first made our Salvation secure by accepting 
the proposals of the heavenly father. 

Farther down in the valley the road passes a pictur- 
esque fountain that sends forth an abundant stream. 
Beyond, on the opposite hill, a new chapel and convent 
is built upon the excavated walls of older structures, 
marking the birthplace of St. John. Next to the altar 
in the chapel is the well of St. Elizabeth, of miraculous 
origin, and, in an opening in the wall to the right, a small 
cave is shown as the hiding place of St. John and his 
mother during the slaughter of the innocents by Herod. 
The cliffs overhanging the convent are honeycombed by 
old burying places. Some of them, now sealed up again, 
contain the remains of recently deceased Franciscans. 
Ain Karem itself does not make the woebegone im- 
pression which many of the other places of Palestine 
invariably make upon the visitor. Most of the inhab- 
itants are Christians, as in Bethlehem and Nazareth. 
Our visit to this place w r as one of the most enjoyable in 
Palestine. 

The most remarkable place in Jerusalem and, for 
that matter, in the whole world, will always remain the 
Holy Sepulchre. Of course we visited this place often 
during our stay of a month, but we spent one day in mak- 
ing a thorough inspection of the extensive buildings 
connected with it. The church of the Holy Sepulchre 
is on the hill to the north of Mount Sion. At the time 
of Christ this hill was outside the then existing walls of 
the city. In later times the present walls were built in 

n 9 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

a wide sweep around the hill of Golgotha, thus mak- 
ing it part of the city. The new addition to the city- 
was densely populated and the present church, though 
built on a hill, is almost hidden in a cluster of the 
other high buildings. It is well known that the church 
of the Holy Sepulchre is really a group of churches 
and chapels, which form one whole, covering both the 
burial place of our Lord and the hill on which he was 
crucified. That is easily possible, since they are only 
about a hundred feet apart. Golgotha was only a small 
hillock, and may be called a part of Mt. Sion. At its foot 
and into the rocky sides of the hill Joseph of Arimathea 
had built a sepulchre for himself, into which he helped to 
place the Savior with his own hand. St. Helena, the 
mother of the Emperor Constantine, before she built 
the church over the grave, leveled the rocks around it, 
cutting away also a large portion of the rock of Golgotha. 
Thus a level space of about seventy feet in diameter 
was created, on which the great rotunda of the church 
now stands. She even went so far as to cut away the 
vestibule of the original tomb, leaving only a sort of 
shell, which to this day vaults over the resting place of 
Jesus. The whole of this is covered by a marble struc- 
ture about fifteen feet long and ten wide, surmounted 
by a Byzantine cupola. The whole monument is prob- 
ably not over twenty feet high. In the front, a small 
door opens into a sort of vestibule, which is called the 
Chapel of the Angel; for here the angel sat upon a 
stone when the pious women paid their visit to the grave. 
In the rear of this vestibule there is a hole in the monu- 
ment so narrow that only an ordinary sized person could 
squeeze through, and so low that only a child of ten 
years could enter in upright position. This aperture 
gives admission to the real tomb of our Lord. However, 
nothing of it can be seen except the bare rocks above, 
all black from the smoke of the lamps, and a marble slab 

120 



The Holy Sepulchre. 



about six feet long and two broad, which forms an altar- 
table across the niche in the wall. Beneath this slab is 
the native rock, chiseled out for a resting place of the 
human body. There lay the sacred body of Christ until 
the third day. Above the altar-table are some rich 
ornaments, and several lamps of precious metal. On 
that marble slab, just above the spot where the divine 
Savior rested in death, I celebrated holy mass in Easter 
week, as I have already mentioned. In the narrow 
vault, perhaps not more than five or six persons would 
find room to stand. The Greeks have cut holes through 
the rock on top in order to give egress to the smoke of 
the perpetual lamps. They have also cut an oval hole 
into each side of the vestibule or chapel of the angel in 
order to hand out their sacred fire on Holy Saturday. 
The Russian people are made to believe that the fire 
descends direct from heaven on Easter night. 

Above the sepulchral monument the great rotunda 
of the church rises to a height of over a hundred and 
fifty feet. The pillars or ribs of the rotunda rise straight 
to the curve and then all unite in the centre of the 
cupola. The architecture is Byzantine and the rotunda 
is common ground for all the different denominations 
of Christians; but the hours during w T hich services may 
be held in the Sepulchre are strictly regulated. On 
the outside, to the rear part of the monument, is 
attached the altar of the Copts. The spaces between 
the pillars and the outside wall of the rotunda form a 
circular row of chapels belonging to different denom- 
inations. One of them, opposite the Coptic altar, is 
held as a chapel for the Syrians, and in a recess of that 
chapel is the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea. 

In order that the reader may obtain some idea of 
the location of the other important points of the great 
church, let him start with me from the Austrian hospice 
on a tour of exploration. Coming up from the hospice, 

121 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

and passing the remains of the old city gate built before 
the time of Christ, we happen upon one of the most 
lively bazaar streets of Jerusalem. It winds somewhat 
around the foot of the hill of Golgotha. At the next 
corner we will turn to the right about one hundred and 
fifty paces. We have been going up hill a little and 
skirted Golgotha on its east and south side. Now we 
stand before a narrow entrance to a court paved with 
flag-stones, and opposite to us is the portal of a church. 
Nothing is seen of this church except the facade, like 
a ruin among ruins. On each side of us old convent 
buildings hide the rest of the church and form the limits 
of the courtyard. Entering the portals of the facade 
we pass a bevy of Turkish soldiers lying on a rug-covered 
platform to our left. 

Ahead of us we see a jumble of pillars; to the right of 
them there seems to be a chapel raised about twenty-five 
feet above our standing ground. This is the summit of 
Golgotha, which has been cut into a cubic form. We 
walk straight ahead for ten steps and stand before a large 
stone slab, surrounded by a railing. The pilgrims 
kneel down and kiss it, for it is the stone on which the 
body of Christ was anointed for burial. To our left, 
ahead of us, between two of the great pillars of the 
rotunda, our eyes are caught by the gleam of many lights. 
They are the lights of the Holy Sepulchre. Around the 
Sepulchre is a free circular space over which rises the 
rotunda. There are sixteen of the pillars, but they do 
not complete the circle. The whole width of the rotunda, 
opposite the entrance of the Sepulchre, forms a high and 
sweeping arch, opening into a large church now in 
possession of the Russians or Greeks. If we pass on to 
the left around the tomb, that is, on the side which is 
opposite to the Russian church, we pass between the 
Coptic altar and the Syrian chapel. Following the 
circle around so as to complete a half circuit, we see 

122 



Sacred Shrines. 



behind the pillars an altar to the right. It is the place 
where our Lord appeared to Magdalen as she stood 
weeping. 

But we must look farther in that direction, for there 
is a door a few steps beyond that altar, and it seems to 
open into a chapel. So it does: as we enter we see the 
familiar decorations and arrangements of Catholic 
churches. The richly decorated altar in the middle 
commemorates the spot where the risen Savior appeared 
to the women; the one to the right contains, behind a 
screen, the column of the flagellation, the one to the left 
contains other relics. Adjoining this chapel is the dwell- 
ing of the Franciscans, who attend to the service and 
are imprisoned there during the night. 

Now we must return again to the rotunda and con- 
tinue our circuit. Immediately in front of the Sepulchre, 
as already mentioned, is the entrance to the Russian 
church, which is the largest of the chapels and the most 
beautifully decorated of the whole complex of buildings. 
On the mosaic pavement, in the centre, a stone, in the 
shape of a knob, projects. Russian pilgrims are con- 
tinually kneeling down beside it to cover it with kisses, 
for their papas tell them that it is the navel of the whole 
world. In front rises the magnificent iconostasis, hiding 
the inner sanctuary. The iconostasis in Greek churches 
is a partition to conceal the sanctuary and the priest dur- 
ing some parts of the mass. In the middle of it is an 
arched door, through which, when open, the altar is 
seen ; on each side of this door are ornaments ; above it is 
generally the picture of the Virgin, and on each side of 
this picture are the paintings of four saints. Running 
along the walls, on each side of the main body of this 
church, are stalls or partitioned seats for the monks. 
The walls and ceilings above them are beautifully fres- 
coed, though of course in Byzantine style. Behind the 
iconostasis, precious metal and jeweled mosaics glitter 

123 



O'er Oceans axd Coxtixexts. 

in profusion on the altar and on the walls. Behind the 
altar is the magnificent throne of the Greek patriarch. 

We can pass out of the sanctuary of the Greek or 
Russian church through a small door on the left. We 
are then in the open passageway between the church and 
an old convent, between which two mighty and shapeless 
pillars support the roof above. In front of us to the 
right, thirty steps ahead, a dark recess in the corner of 
the wall, contains an altar. It is the cave into which 
Jesus was thrown, while the executioners prepared the 
cross. We come back almost to the door of the Greek 
sanctuary' and enter a passage leading behind it. In 
niches to the left is the altar of Longinus and of the 
division of the garments of Christ. Farther on we enter 
an underground passage to our left, and in the dim 
background of the expanding cavern, we see the flicker- 
ing light of candles. They are burning on the altars about 
thirty feet away from us in the chapel of St. Helena. On 
descending about forty- steps hewn down into the rock, 
we find it to be a very roomy cave, but entirely bare and 
neglected except for three rude altars. The chapel 
belongs to the Armenians. The candles have probably 
been placed there by some devout pilgrims of a different 
denomination. But some faint glimmer of lighted 
candles seems to come from the rear right-hand corner. 
Accordingly we descend through the narrow passage on 
twenty more rough steps, and arrive in a small cave, 
where likewise candles are burning on a rude altar. 
This is the cave where the true cross was found with the 
crosses of the two thieves. It belongs to the Latins. 
The rock is left in its natural condition, and is all black- 
ened with smoke. 

On leaving these caves and returning up the two stairs, 
we land again in the passage behind the Greek church 
and continuing around the rear of its sanctuary we pass a 
niche to our left containing the altar of the Column of 

124 



Chapel of Adam. 



Mockery. Only a few steps farther a narrow stone 
stairs leads down into some chambers, which have been 
dug out under the very hill of Calvary, and are used by 
the Greek monks. Only about thirty feet farther in the 
passage (having walked completely around the rear of 
the sanctuary of the Greek church) we come to a narrow 
stairway, which seems to lead up about twenty feet along 
what seems a wall. This wall is nothing else than the 
natural rock of Calvary, the slope of which has been thus 
cut down perpendicularly by St. Helena. Above the 
edge of it the pillars of a chapel rise, and we can see the 
decorations on the ceiling about thirty feet from our 
floor. If we wish, we can climb these stairs (which 
belong to the Greeks) and see the chapels on Golgotha, 
but we prefer first to pass around these stairs to the left, 
and come to a door in the face of the rocky wall. It 
leads into the chapel of Adam. Tradition says, that in 
a cave immediately under the cross of our Savior, the 
bones of Adam w r ere found. The Greeks have made a 
chapel of it. Around it are also some other chambers, 
where if you pry about, the Greek papas will soon give 
you to understand that you are not wanted. Within 
this chapel you stand almost beneath the exact spot 
where Jesus expired on the cross. 

But come out, for the papas are scowling at you even 
more than in other portions of the building. They know 
that they have nothing to expect of such unorthodox 
Christians as we are. Outside the door we continue our 
way, and find a stone stairs winding upward in an angle 
formed by the wall of Calvary 7 and that of the vestibule. 
We might as well ascend the stairs ; it is the Latin one, 
leading up to Golgotha. As we reach the top we see two 
chapels, divided only by two pillars running lengthwise 
between them. The one in which the stairs end is the 
Latin chapel of the crucifixion; the other to our left is 
the Greek chapel of the death of Christ. In the first one, 

125 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

immediately in front of us, the mosaic pavement shows 
the figure of a cross ; there Jesus lay stretched out on the 
real cross, and while He was being nailed to it by three 
long spikes driven through hands and feet. It was done 
in such a cruel manner that all the joints of His arms 
and limbs were dislocated. Imagine how that gang of 
executioners must have pulled and tugged at those un- 
resisting limbs in order to wrench them so far apart. 
Remember also, if you like, that it was done for your 
benefit and mine. In front is the altar, which commem- 
orates this dreadful nailing to the cross. Aside of it, 
to the left, is a smaller altar with the statue of the Mater 
Dolorosa; there Mary stood, when the quivering limbs 
of Jesus were being nailed to the cross, and there she 
stood during the three hours, while He hung upon it in 
agony. Who is so stony-hearted as not to be moved by 
the woe of such a Mother! 

But we pass between the pillar and this statue to our 
left to the chapel of the death of Christ. The Greeks are 
jealously watching our motions, as we stand before the 
altar. A lifesize silver crucifix is fixed into the native 
rock at our feet. Costly lamps and candlesticks and 
the statue of the holy women on each side adorn the 
altar. From the ceiling is suspended a magnificent 
hanging lamp, in which colored lights are burning. A 
portion of the bare rock immediately around the cross is 
uncovered, and about three feet from the foot is the open- 
ing of a large crack in the rock, which originated at the 
death of Christ. At the moment of his death the earth 
shook in her foundations, the rock of Calvary split 
between the cross of Christ and that of the impenitent 
thief, and the dead arose from their graves. How these 
happenings must have frightened the inhabitants of 
Jerusalem! Yet what happened then is only a slight 
foreshadowing of the terrors that will invade the earth 
on the last day. At that time God wished only to warn 

126 



Calvary. 



those who were well disposed; the terrors of the last 
day are for those who have despised all his commands 
and all his kindness. We have now seen the whole of 
the church of the Holy Sepulchre ; let us say a prayer 
at the Sepulchre, and leave the church, esteeming our- 
selves singularly favored in having been permitted to 
walk through these most sacred places. 



127 



CHAPTER XV. 

With the Austrians toMt. Moria — Green-Mantled 
Hadshi — In Omar Mosque — The Hadshi's 
Brazen Statements — Oriental Splendor — In 
El Akseh — A Fat Man's Predicament — Stables 
of Solomon — In Bethlehem — Basilicas and 
Caves — Shepherds' Field and the Milk-Cave — 
D esperate Plans — Happy Expedient — Prac- 
tical Hints. 

On one of the last days of our stay we accompanied 
the Austrian pilgrims on their visit to Mount Moria and 
the temple grounds. These grounds are surrounded on 
all four sides by walls some thirty feet high. The length 
of the grounds is about half a mile and their breadth one 
quarter of a mile. It is a plateau half covered with 
rank, un trimmed grass. In the middle rises the beauti- 
ful Omar mosque, and on the south end of the plateau 
the vast basilica of El Akseh spreads out over the vaults 
of Solomon. On the east, near the Golden gate, is an 
octagonal kiosk, and along the west and north walls run 
porticos, some of them walled up to serve for habitations 
of those in charge of the grounds. Here also is the 
dwelling of the pasha, which is surrounded by a high 
minaret. 

On our entrance we were taken in tow by a gaunt, 
green-mantled and green-turbaned Arab. This is the 
dress worn by the hadshis, or those who have made the 
pilgrimage to Mecca. But when I asked him later on, 
whether he had made that pilgrimage, he answered with 
infinite disdain, that this place is Mecca enough. Al- 
though none among the pilgrims besides ourselves under- 

129 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

stood English, he began to sputter away his Moslemite 
information in horridly butchered fragments of English, 
so that the Germans were only at a small disadvantage 
in comparison with ourselves. The substructure of the 
Omar mosque is an octagonal of the most graceful pro- 
portions, and the beautiful cupola rises above it to the 
height of some two hundred feet. The material seems 
to be a gray limestone, darkened by age. The sides are 
broken by sculptured panels, within which are the Moor- 
ish windows arranged in pairs. There are four portals 
on each of the four larger sides. 

Having covered our feet with clumsy overshoes, we 
entered on the west side. In the middle an irregularly 
shaped rock, some fifty feet in diameter, rose to the height 
of about eight feet. It is entirely bare and surrounded by 
a circular railing of equal height. Beautifully propor- 
tioned pillars circle around this rock and aspire to the 
cupola. The railing runs from pillar to pillar in grace- 
ful arabesque and trellis work. This rock is the summit 
of Mount Moria, where Abraham had intended to sacri- 
fice his son. The hadshi showed us some circular holes 
in its edge, saying that they are the fingermarks of the 
angel Gabriel. Mahomet, he said, came to this rock 
with El Borak, his heavenly steed, in order to ascend into 
heaven to the throne of Allah. But even the mountains 
felt the effects of the trance in which Mahomet fell at the 
moment of ascending. When the prophet began to 
ascend, the rock of Moria clung to the feet of El Borak 
to accompany the prophet. Probably Allah considered 
this an unnecessary baggage, which would retard the 
journey. So he sent the angel Gabriel in order to hold 
the unruly mountain in its place. The fearful grasp of 
the angel caused his fingers to bury themselves into the 
rock, thus causing the small holes. The hadshi told us 
this story with the most solemn face, and moreover tried 
to make us believe that this rock is in no wise connected 

130 



Temple Site. 



with the rest of the mountain, but remains suspended 
some ten feet in mid-air ; namely, in the very place which 
it had already reached before the angel came to stop its 
yearning flight. Of course none of us giaours dared to 
misbelieve the story. A hadshi can't tell any lies. But 
I must say, that I might possibly have believed some- 
what more implicitly, if I had been able to see the empty 
space under the great rock. It was a pity that the four- 
foot wall running all around it prevented us from verify- 
ing the fact. I hope the reader will also be satisfied 
with the word of the saintly hadshi. 

The great cupola is directly above this rock, resting 
on the rotunda of beautiful pillars. Its ceiling is richly 
gilded. At about half the height of the rotunda the sub- 
structure spreads away all around in eight octagonal 
sections. The gilding, the mosaic and trellis work on 
the ceilings and walls of the encircling lower structure, are 
exquisitely artistic. Our hadshi now brought us to the 
south side and showed us an ordinary cave underneath 
the great rock. The sides of this cave were covered with 
marble slabs, but above us were some projections. He 
said they marked the places where Abraham, Moses, 
Elias, and other great saints had forced their way out of 
this cave, as soon as Mahomet had emigrated to the better 
world. Every soul, too, that is destined for heaven is 
kept prisoner in this cave, until it can force an opening 
through the solid rock above. I wonder what all the 
millions of Mahometan souls thought of the saintly 
hadshi for introducing so many giaours into their narrow 
abode. Perhaps they stepped out through the open 
door of their prison, just for a change, until the cursed 
giaours should again vacate their prison; some of them 
may even never have returned to bore their way to 
heaven through the rock. 

I wished also the hadshi had pointed out the empty 
space under the great rock, of which he had so glibly in- 

131 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

formed us when speaking of the archangel's fingerholes. 
We were under it now, but as far as we could see, without 
appearing too inquisitive, the rock rested on a mighty 
solid foundation. But then what right had we un- 
believing giaours to pry so closely into the mysteries of 
the Haram es Sherif ? 

The Omar mosque occupies the site of the Temple 
of Solomon. The rock probably supported the sanc- 
tuary, or holy of holies, of the God of Israel. On the 
spacious grounds outside, the pious Moslem pilgrims 
as they approached, showed their reverence in many 
ways, now kneeling down, now raising their arms in 
supplication, now prostrating themselves in the direction 
of the mosque. About one hundred feet in front of each 
of the four portals, at the foot of a gently rising terrace, 
four pillared arches guard the approaches. 

Our hadshi with his flowing mantle preceded us to 
the mosque El Akseh on the south end of the temple 
plateau. This building is much larger than the Omar 
mosque, as it was originally the great five-naved basilica 
built by the crusaders on the site of Solomon's palaces. 
Its shape and architecture, being basilican, is in strange 
contrast to its present use. The Turks keep this and 
the Omar mosque in fair condition, which is rarely the 
case with other mosques in the Turkish Empire. As one 
enters the main portals, two rows of huge Doric pillars 
stretch away to the front, carrying the high middle nave. 
Its ceiling rises nearly twice the height of the four other 
naves. The pavement is not in very good condition; 
part of it is covered with old carpets. 

A dervish sat in the rear of the left sidenave, sur- 
rounded by a circle of Moslems. He was explaining 
the Koran. Our hadshi brought us to the front and sung 
the praises of the mihrab, or front niche, and of the great 
pulpit carved from olive wood. Much finer ones had we 
seen in India. The pillars, which formerly divided the 

132 



El Akseh. 



sanctuary from the left wing of the church, are so closely 
placed together, that a stout man could not pass between 
them. The belief was current, that whoever could 
manage to squeeze through between these pillars, would 
also be certain of passing through the gate of paradise. 
Some time ago a fat Mahometan dignitary, wishing to 
gain this certainty, stuck fast between these pillars, so 
that they had to cut out his body. In order to prevent 
any more blocking up of heaven's gateways by carrion 
flesh, the spaces between the pillars are now walled up. 
The mosque El Akseh seems bare and cheerless, for all 
the decorations that savor of Christianity are daubed 
over with dull paint. We descended into the subter- 
ranean crypt, and wondered at the huge blocks of stone 
which form the foundation of the basilica. Parts of the 
foundations date back to Solomon's time. 

In fact the entire southern end of the temple-ground 
is really a platform, which rests on the massive vaults 
built up from the gentle slope of the hillside. On the 
southeast corner of the city walls, which is at the same 
time the southeast corner of the temple-grounds, a 
passage leads down underneath this platform. The 
corridors between the vaulted columns that bear the 
platform are called the stables of Solomon. In some 
places the iron rings and the stone cribs for the horses 
are still traceable. Solomon must have had little ob- 
jection to the smell of ammonia usually connected with 
stables of horses, for his palaces were built above these 
vaults. The masonry of these vaults, which cover seven 
acres of the hillslope, has withstood the wear of three 
thousand years, and it is apparently as solid as when 
first erected. A few openings in the south wall admit 
some light, but the rear vaults are in darkness. 

Coming again to daylight our hadshi led the way along 
the east wall to the Golden gate. This is built of marble 
and the inside forms a vestibule with some exquisitely 

133 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

carved pillars. The gate is said to have been built by 
Solomon, but it must be of much later date. It has 
been walled up ever since the Moslems obtained posses- 
sion of Jerusalem. The Turks firmly believe that this 
is the only vulnerable place in Jerusalem and that here 
the enemy will enter, if Jerusalem ever falls into the 
hands of the Christians. A fair-sized modern cannon 
ball from the Russian hospice on the west side of the 
city could pave its way through the whole city of Jeru- 
salem, to this gate, smash it to atoms and chip off some 
splinters from the rocks of Mount Olivet across the valley 
of Josaphat. What infatuation to think that walling up 
this gate should save this city from invasion! Near this 
gate is a small octagonal structure of white marble, in 
w^hich the Moslems claim to have in preservation the 
throne of Solomon. As we were walking over the uncut 
grass toward the northwest entrance of the temple square, 
the muezzins were calling out their " Allah il Allah.' ' 
The only minaret on these grounds is the graceful stone 
tower that rises like a slender, graceful column, 150 feet 
above the dwelling of the pasha. It occupies the north- 
west corner of the temple plateau. The turbaned 
muezzins looked like boys moving around the minaret 
and calling out their summons as if from the blue sky. 
Their clear voices, mingling with those from other mina- 
rets in Jerusalem and re-echoing through the evening 
air, seemed like a reminder to many a Christian of his 
duty to pray. This at least is an admirable institution 
of Mahomet, that his followers are reminded so often of 
Allah and of their duty to seek his blessings. 

Next morning found us in Bethlehem. There being 
no opportunity of soon saying mass on the altar of the 
crib, I said it on the altar of St. Joseph, next to the cave of 
the Nativity. The Russians w r ere having their services 
at the altar of the Nativity. It consisted of interminable 
singing in long-drawn notes. The celebrant and his as- 

134 



Bethlehem's Cave. 



sistants in colored vestments and moving about in the 
cave, sang endless responses, frequently using incense. 
After they had finished, we made the tour of inspection of 
the caves and of the church. A few stairs in the rock 
lead down directly into the cave of the Nativity. This is 
about thirty by ten feet, the floor paved in mosaics, but 
the bare rocks forming the vault about eight feet high. 
A Turkish soldier guards the entrance day and night. 
The altar of the Nativity is only three steps from the en- 
trance in the front wall. A silver star, in the marble 
slab under the altar, marks the precise spot of the birth 
of Christ. This altar belongs to the Greeks. On the 
other side of the stairs is a smaller cave, forming a sort of 
alcove. It belongs to the Latins and contains two altars ; 
one on the place where the three kings adored the Child, 
the other where the Child rested in the manger. Oppo- 
site this alcove is the stairs leading up into the Greek or 
Russian convent. 

Passing through the length of the larger cave, we come 
to a miraculous well in one corner and to a narrow passage 
on the other. This passage leads into the cave of 
St. Joseph. An altar occupies the spot where Joseph 
received the message of the angel, bidding him arise from 
sleep and fly into Egypt. Next to this cave is the cave 
of the holy Innocents. Their altar stands over a deep 
cavity in the floor, into which many bodies of the slaugh- 
tered Innocents were thrown. From this cave there 
are two different passages ; one leads up into the church 
of St. Catherine in charge of the Franciscans, the other 
leads into another cave. In this cave there are three 
altars: the altar of St. Eusebius, of St. Paula and Eus- 
tochium, and of St. Jerome. All these saints have spent 
a good part of their lives in these caves. Still another 
and larger cave is connected with the one last named, and 
was the habitation of St. Jerome for many years. 

We must now go back to the cave of the Innocents in 

135 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

order to pass up the stone stairs in to the church of St. 
Catherine. Let the reader understand, that there are 
three entrances to the caves, and that two churches are 
built aside of each other above these caves ; two entrances 
connect with the churches, and one with the street. The 
older of the two churches is the basilica of the Nativity, 
which dates back to the time of St. Helena, and is now 
in the hands of the Russians. The body of this church 
contains five naves, resting on four rows of doric pillars. 
So little do the Greeks or Russian, care for the venerable 
building, which they stole from the Franciscans, that 
they allow a public market to be held in its main part ; 
the sanctuary they have partitioned off and use for their 
parochial church. On each side of the middle of this 
sanctuary, about thirty-five feet apart, are two stairs, 
both leading directly to the grotto and altar of the Na- 
tivity. Behind and aside of the basilica, on the right as 
we face the altar, are convents of the Greek and Arme- 
nian monks. On the left of the ancient church of the 
Nativity adjoins the church of St. Catherine and the 
Franciscan monasteries and schools. Near the portals 
of this church is a passage underground leading directly 
to the caves of the holy Innocents and of St. Joseph, 
which connect it with the cave of the Nativity. The 
church of St. Catherine is only three-naved and only 
half as long as the basilica of the Nativity. Both these 
churches are so hidden by the adjoining convents, that 
nothing except the belfry of St. Catherine is prominent 
to view outside. We had a whole case of devotional 
articles brought into the cave of the Nativity and laid on 
the holy places, in order to serve as mementoes to our 
friends on our return. One of the Franciscan fathers 
blessed these articles and attached to them the great 
indulgences. 

Afterwards a guide took us about a mile and a half 
down into the valley of the shepherds. Here the angelic 

136 



Around Bethlehem. 



hosts appeared to the simple shepherds to announce the 
birth of Christ. The precise spot of their appearance is 
a grotto under the vaulted ruins of an old church. It is 
in the possession of the Greeks and they keep it in their 
own neglectful way. They have, however, put a fence 
around the place and demand a bakshish from visitors. 
Nothing is to be seen inside except crumbling stones and 
dirt. On our return we made a detour to the southwest 
side of Bethlehem, where, on a high hill, is the Milk- 
grotto. Here the Blessed Virgin stayed for a short time 
with the Child. A miraculous spring welled from the 
solid rock, where, as tradition says, some of the Virgin's 
milk dropped, while she was nursing the Infant Jesus. 
The Franciscans have transformed the grotto and its 
surroundings into a beauty spot. The interior is richly 
decorated and several lights burn continually on the 
marble altar. A garden filled with an abundance of 
flowers befittingly enclosed the grotto. Pilgrims gen- 
erally take along some of the limestone ground, baked 
into pellets, which is said to be of wonderful efficacy 
in curing the ailments of child-bearing women. The 
streets of Bethlehem, though narrow and irregular, have 
an air of business about them. The people seem to be 
more prosperous and of higher type than those generally 
met with in Jerusalem and Palestine. The principal 
industry is the manufacture of devotional articles. Hav- 
ing packed our goods in a box ready for shipment at 
Dabdoub's store, we brought it to Jerusalem, and shipped 
it to Xew York through Singer's express agency. 

We had spent about a month in the Holy Land and 
it was time for us to look for passage on some out-bound 
vessel in Jaffa. But an unexpected difficulty arose: 
quarantine had been declared against all vessels from 
eastern ports. Hence, on all such vessels, we were liable 
to quarantine on arrival in European or Turkish ports. 
Besides, no steamer was due at Jaffa within the next few 

137 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

weeks. I had already urgently requested the manager 
of the Austrian pilgrimage to be permitted to take passage 
on their chartered steamer. But they had given me 
small hope, claiming that their steamer was overcrowded, 
and that they were afraid of difficulties on landing at 
Triest, if they brought passengers not belonging to the 
pilgrimage. As the season was far advanced, it would 
be a great hardship to lose at least ten days in quaran- 
tine. We thought ourselves somewhat ill used by the 
refusal of the Austrian pilgrims to take us aboard. 
Hence we had made up our minds to smuggle ourselves 
aboard the ship with the crowd of pilgrims and see what 
would come of the matter later on. They could take 
their choice, either to accept pay for the voyage, or else 
throw us overboard, like Jonah of old, who played a 
similar trick in the very same port. At any rate, we 
were prepared to take the risk and treatment of stow- 
aways, rather than be delayed by quarantine. 

In order to put our desperate plan into execution it 
was necessary to be on hand on the morning when the 
pilgrims were to embark on the Poseidon. Accordingly 
we took the morning train for Jaffa on the day before. 
At the Franciscan hospice in Jaffa, we found four of the 
Austrian pilgrims, two of them very sick. They readily 
promised to co-operate in our scheme ; for we did not tell 
them of the scanty encouragement which the managers 
of the pilgrimage had given us on applying for passage. 
As we would probably have to sleep on deck during our 
passage, we bought two woolen blankets in one of the 
bazaars. A Christian native of the hospice had accom- 
panied us on this purchase, and he naturally inquired 
about the use we intended to make of the blankets. 
When we had explained to him, that we would probably 
need them for sleeping on deck of the Poseidon, he asked 
us why we did not take the Aphrodite to Constantinople, 
instead of crowding ourselves on board the pilgrim ship. 

138 



The Aphrodite. 



The Aphrodite was a small steamer anchored in the har- 
bor, of which the brother in the hospice had told us that 
it was bound for Alexandria, just the place which we 
wanted to avoid on account of the quarantine. How 
glad we were to find, that she was to depart that day, not 
for Alexandria, but for Constantinople, and that she 
would nowhere be subject to quarantine, since she had 
not touched at any Egyptian port. On my getting aboard 
the Aphrodite, the captain accompanied me to the shore 
and procured tickets to Constantinople at a greatly re- 
duced rate. We paid only eighty francs for two first 
cabin tickets to Constantinople. Having sold our blank- 
ets again to the very merchant from whom we had bought 
them, we now looked to the arrival of the Austrian pil- 
grims with great equanimity. 

At about nine o'clock they came trooping along from 
the depot in irregular groups and began entering the 
small boats in great confusion. The Poseidon was riding 
at anchor half a mile out beyond the dangerous rocks 
inshore. The embarking of the pilgrims took nearly 
two hours and from the high balcony of the hospice it 
presented a very lively scene. With some of the last 
stragglers I boarded the pilgrim ship and saw her whole 
interior honeycombed with rude berths. I then realized 
how fortunate we had been in procuring passage on the 
other vessel. My desire had been to see Constantinople ; 
now, instead of going direct to Triest, we would be able 
to visit several of the historic islands and sea-coast cities 
of the Mediterranean, and of Syria and Asiatic Turkey, 
and, in easy stages, finally reach Constantinople. 

Proudly the great pilgrim ship, with booming cannons, 
flying pennants, and martial music moved away into the 
Mediterranean, and from the balcony of the hospice we 
waved the inmates a friendly adieu. The Poseidon 
dwindled more and more into the distance and finally 
disappeared beneath the dark-blue horizon. We our- 

139 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

selves embarked on the trim Aphrodite at four o'clock, 
and a few hours later the ship weighed anchor, carrying 
us away from the shores of the Holy Land. Blessed are 
the days we spent there, full of pleasing and consoling 
memories. "Si oblitus fuero tui Jerusalem oblivioni 
detur dextera mea; adhaereat lingua mea faucibus meis, 
si non meminero tui: si non proposuero Jerusalem in 
principio laetitiae meae." "If I forget thee, Jerusalem, 
may my right hand be given to oblivion ; let my tongue 
cleave to my mouth, if I am not mindful of thee ; if I do 
not place Jerusalem in the beginning of my joy." 

Practical Hints. In regard to the traditions connected 
with the holy places in Palestine, it is good to exercise some judg- 
ment. The most reliable source of information is the Catholic 
church, and especially the Franciscan order. The Catholic 
church has always shown pious interest in the places connected 
with the doings of biblical personages, and therefore she was the 
faithful custodian of the holy places, just as she has been the only 
custodian of the Sacred Scriptures. The Mahometans have so 
mixed their fables with holy persons and places, that practically 
nothing reliable concerning the original history remains to them. 
The schismatic Greeks, Armenians, Copts, Syrians, never did 
enter into the spirit of the traditions which they received from the 
mother church, and therefore much of their information is dis- 
torted and full of errors. The importance of the principal facts 
connected with a place is very often minimized in favor of minor 
circumstances bearing out their schismatic doctrines. 

. Since the twelfth century the Franciscans were the sole cus- 
todians of holy places and of their traditions. They have spent 
large sums of money for excavations, and in many places historic 
accounts are still extant dating back many centuries. Ever since 
St. Francis visited the Orient the custody of the Holy Land is inti- 
mately interwoven with the whole history of their order. Hence 
there is no doubt that their information is the most reliable. From 
this it follows, that the most advantageous places to take lodging 
are their hospices in the different parts of Palestine. Those that 
make a longer stay in the Holy Land, should guard against a sick- 
ness which sometimes besets pilgrims. It is a peculiar sort of 
fever, the nature of which is not known and is called Jerusalem 
fever. Residents there may have some remedies against it, but 
after it has once taken a good hold, the only safety is to depart 
as soon as possible. 

140 



CHAPTER XVI. 

Libanus Mount — High Words at Low Insinua- 
tions — Near Antioch — In Tarsus of Cili- 
cia — Rhodes and Chios. 

Jaffa, rising like a hemisphere of white buildings from 
either side of the shore, was a long time in sight, but grad- 
ually the widening distance and the gathering dusk hid 
it and the adjoining hills from view. The morning of 
Thursday, May ioth, found us on the calm, sunny ocean 
off the coast of Beirut. Hermon's snowy top, 9,500 feet 
high, glittered like a giant over the Libanus range along 
the Syrian shore. 

At table the few passengers entered freely into con- 
versation. Among them was a lady, Mrs. Hanson, who 
seemed to be some kind of reporter for a periodical in Eng- 
land. She was accompanied by an Arab dragoman and 
his son, a native of Ramallah, the town I failed to find on 
my trip to Nazareth. The captain spoke some English, 
he and the other officers, and three or four passengers, 
were Greeks. As the lady began to talk about seasick- 
ness, I remarked, that while affected with it, one does not 
know whether the next lurch of the vessel would throw 
one into the bottom of hell, or send him up to heaven, 
altogether unprepared for enjoyment, so undefined was 
the feeling it is apt to cause. The strong comparison 
at once brought the dragoman to introduce religion. I 
have always noticed, that there is no surer way to stir up 
religious discussion, than to merely hint at hell. In so- 
called polite society, no mention must be made of hell. 
It touches everybody to the quick, which no doubt is a 
proof, that the dim fear of hell is in every human breast, 

141 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

and is in itself a cogent proof of the existence of hell. 
Else why such sensitiveness ? 

Without any introduction the dragoman asked me 
pointedly, whether I was not a Catholic priest. Yes, 
of course. Why do Catholic priests demand money for 
absolving sins, and why do they claim to be able to lib- 
erate souls from purgatory for stipulated sums of money ? 
This was a little too much for my equanimity. I spoiled 
some of his barefaced assurance, by telling him that 
any one who claimed to be able to prove that assertion 
was a liar. I felt a twinge of conscience for having used 
so strong a term at table and before ladies, but once 
having made the sally, which the occasion perhaps justi- 
fied, I bombarded him with what easily came to hand 
just then. He shielded himself by saying that many 
people had told him so. His informers were relegated 
to the aforesaid class of individuals. All the priests in 
the world could not change the fate of any soul, if 
money were to be used as motive power. But Catho- 
lics believe and know the efficacy of prayer and sacrifice 
offered for such souls as were suffering in purgatory. 
Hence they ask the intercession of the priest as minister 
of God, not only for themselves, but for their deceased 
friends. To accept payment for giving absolution, for 
indulgences, masses, or prayers is branded by the church 
as Simony and is punished in the severest manner. 
Every Catholic understands this and they are the last 
to offer any payment for spiritual favors. The gifts 
offered on such occasions are looked upon as contri- 
butions either toward the building and maintenance 
of churches and schools, or for the support of the pastors. 
Why should that, which is freely done in every religious 
denomination all over the world and in every profession, 
be a crime only in the Catholic church? Besides, no 
money is ever offered for confession or absolution. As 
the dragoman was not a revengeful or malicious man, 

142 



Ship Company. 



only a great talker, we were soon on good terms again 
and remained so during the voyage. 

No very strict separation was kept between first and 
second class passengers on the Greek vessel. Some 
Greek papas in second class, were with the first class 
passengers most of the time. We were glad to have calm 
weather, for as the Aphrodite was not a large vessel, we 
would have been thrown about considerably in a rough 
sea. Moonlight lay over the rippling sea and over 
the distant Libanus, that hides the historic plains of 
Damascus. Snow gleamed between some of the bare 
mountain-crags, while at their base dark streaks marked 
the woody slopes and green fields along the shore. 
Early in the morning we entered the bay of Iskende- 
roum or ancient Antioch. The city itself is in ruins and 
replaced by a small town called Antaka. At Alexand- 
retta where Alexander gained his first decisive victory 
on his march to Persia, the Turkish harbor-officials sur- 
prised us by their polite and reasonable reception on 
landing. We walked through the cobble-stone streets 
of Alexandretta, past many shops, that had a business- 
like air about them, to the Catholic church in charge of 
the Carmelites. One of the fathers sat in a forlorn 
schoolroom, waiting for his laggard scholars to appear. 
He told us that the trip to the ruins of Antioch would 
take two days, but one could get a distant view of the 
surroundings, from a mountain-pass behind Bela, ten 
miles from here. The excursion to the mountain-pass 
would in itself be a very pleasant ride. Thereupon we 
concluded, if possible, to secure conveyance to Bela. 

A boy conducted us to a large khan, and, as we pre- 
tended not to be so very anxious, we soon got offers of 
a carriage for a reasonable price. But our driver this 
time was not Mahomet, of Jerusalem. After making a 
spurt out of town, he and his horses seemed bent on sleep 
more than on making any particular headway. They 

143 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

slowly crawled up the gentle slopes, which descended 
from the rugged mountains to the sea. We were not 
sorry, for the scenery became more and more charming. 
As we passed through a rocky gorge, Bela lay before us 
crouched up in the angle of two adjoining mountains. 
The roofs of its houses were made of dark-colored tile, 
and looked like irregular black terraces at the head of 
the mountain gulch. Mountains clad in verdure 
hemmed us in on three sides as we climbed farther up, 
while to the rear of us, northwest of Alexandretta, the 
great Taurus range stretched away like vast western 
continents. Southward of the mountains, far out in the 
blue ocean, the hazy cliffs of the island of Cyprus are 
visible. A comparatively fine pike road winds through 
the mountain-pass ; it is maintained by the toll receipts. 

The inhabitants of Bela mustered us closely, though 
not uncivilly. Their appearance was that of well-to-do 
and independent people; no beggars were met with. 
There is a pretty strong sprinkling of Druses among 
them ; many of these could be seen in the street in their 
gaudy and snug-fitting garments. They seem a stalwart 
and hardy race. The shops and houses have an ap- 
pearance of prosperity and enterprise about them, quite 
different from those in Palestine. 

After about two miles of further climbing we arrived 
at the mountain-pass, from w T hence the road again de- 
scends to distant plains. To the left the plains are much 
broken up by lakes and marshes, while on the verges 
of the plain to the right the ruins of Antioch were dimly 
visible. A spur of hills intercepts the view of the village 
of Antaka. From the heights on which we stood, the 
army of Alexander may have viewed Antioch from afar, 
or the crusaders, in their weary march, may have been 
gladdened by the sight of the rich plains and the prospect 
of glorious contest against the Moslem hosts gathered 
together in Antioch. 

144 



Ancient Antioch. 



On our return the driver had accepted as a com- 
panion, a Druse lad of about sixteen years. Though he 
was but a poor mountaineer, he had a fine and noble 
bearing about him. Half way down, our driver, having 
noticed that we took some interest in the flowers that 
grew in profusion on the mountain slopes, decorated the 
horses and the carriage with huge bushes of yellow 
blossoms. We rode into Alexandretta in gala style; 
however laggard the pace had been uphill, our driver, 
on approaching the town, lashed the horses into a furious 
gallop. Our carriage was in danger of being knocked to 
splinters on the rough boulders, and we ourselves, of 
landing in some hole along the wayside. But if reckless, 
he was an expert driver, and no accident happened. 

Not a single hint was given us on leaving the custom 
pier, that a bakshish was expected. We mentally scored 
a point in favor of the harbor officials of Alexandretta. 
Our good ship resumed her voyage, and now headed 
southwestward in order to clear the great promontory of 
Asia Minor. The silvery sheen of the moon glittered in 
the wake of the vessel, and our quibs and jokes were 
sometimes interrupted by the merry laughter or animated 
conversation of other passengers around us. These 
nights on the ship were among the pleasant ones of our 
great journey. 

As we arose on the next morning, the slanting rays 
of the rising sun played on the verdant plains and the 
receding mountains of the Taurus range. Before us lay 
the town of Mersina, spreading out on the level shores 
of Cilicia. We hastened ashore and to the Franciscan 
church. The fathers here are desperately poor, for the 
contributions of the natives toward the church are next 
to nothing, and they have to depend upon the precarious 
remittances from the Propaganda. Yet they had man- 
aged to build a church, though they themselves still lived 
in a ruinous convent. Our intention was to make an 

145 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

excursion to Tarsus, the reputed birthplace of St. Paul. 
It lies some twenty miles off to the eastward, in the same 
wide plain as Mersina. The roads had been paved 
once upon a time; now the rough huge boulders pro- 
jected out of the ground, deep ruts had been worn out by 
the wagon wheels, and bottomless mud-holes yawned 
for horse and carriage. At a distance of four or five 
miles to our left, the Taurus, still seamed with streaks 
of winter's snows, rose over the plain. Waving grain- 
fields and verdant pastures lined both sides of our road. 
Bands of men and women, in their wide Turkish gar- 
ments, were busy here and there cutting the yellow grain 
with hand-sickles and binding the swelling sheaves as in 
times of old. I doubt, whether in all this country even 
one harvesting machine could be found. Why should 
land-owners invest money in machines, when for a few 
medjids they could hire hundreds of busy hands ? Cara- 
vans of heavily laden camels passed us on the road, but 
also a railroad train rumbled by in the valley to our 
left. A few Tcherkess horsemen stormed past us like 
the wind, as we came in sight of Tarsus. 

The water of the river Cydnus is skilfully distributed 
in and around Tarsus by irrigation channels and pro- 
duces a luxurious vegetation. Trees and shrubs were 
in full blossom, filling the air with fragrance.- We had 
traversed the lively bazaar streets up and down before we 
met any one who could understand what we wanted. 
A young native at last accosted us in English and offered 
to bring us to the Presbyterian College, and show us the 
other sights of Tarsus. The Presbyterian College and 
Seminary are under management of Dr. Christie. When 
our young guide, who was a student of the seminary, 
announced us at the home of Dr. Christie, I suppose the 
good rector had a fainting spell. A Catholic priest 
paying a visit to the hot-bed of Presbyterian Calvinism 
in Asia! His wife returned with the message from the 

146 



At Tarsus. 



interior (we were not invited to enter, but stood on the 
doorsteps), that the doctor was not to be seen. They 
have quite an establishment here, though the buildings 
would scarcely do for an institution of the same kind in 
our country. Our young guide seemed somewhat 
demoralized at the reception which we got. Poor lad, 
he seemed to think an American Catholic gentleman, 
and one who seemed just as good as any Protestant 
minister, ought to be made welcome. Later on, he gave 
me to understand that he could not account for our recep- 
tion. 

He readily accompanied us to the parish priest of 
United Armenians. His chapel and dwelling were mere 
hovels, while the schismatic Armenians near by have a 
fine church, crowned with a well-proportioned dome. 
On the outskirts of the town is an immense concrete wall 
which has withstood the wind and weather of thirty-five 
centuries. It is said to be the remains of the mausoleum 
of Sardanapalus. Tarsus is held to be the birthplace of 
St. Paul by the inhabitants, and they are proud of the 
distinction. It is at least certain, that he spent a number 
of years in this town and probably received his education 
here. The falls of the river Cydnus near the city afford 
a beautiful bit of natural scenery. Returning to the 
bazaars, we reveled in the enjoyment of all the dainties 
of a Turkish dinner. This consisted of nothing more 
or less than goodly portions of rice pillau and well 
peppered hash. Only it was supplemented by a bottle 
of raki. We now knew there was some substantial 
reason for the huge platters and pots of pillau and meat 
sauce, that one sees exposed in the open shops of the 
Turkish towns. Several times afterwards we made 
hearty meals of these Turkish delicacies. 

Our swarthy driver, Gellah, in the meanwhile had 
fed his horses and now made signs that we must be off on 
our return, if we would catch the steamer. A few miles 

147 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

out from Tarsus he suddenly jumped off the carriage and 
ran toward some shepherds in the fields. There he 
bought a jet black lamb and most unconcernedly placed 
it between us in the carriage with a bundle of green oats. 
We were not unwilling to have the gentle beast as our 
companion and pitied its sad fate, for no doubt it was to 
serve as food in the near future. One of the industries 
of this region must be the manufacture of rose-water. A 
tavern on the roadside was literally hidden from view 
by the rose-bushes around it and trailing up its sides. 
The scent of roses filled the air. To the credit of the 
harbor officials of Mersina be it said, that they, like those 
of Alexandretta, caused us no delay or trouble in landing 
or in embarking. The vessel soon had resumed its 
westerly course along the shores of Cilicia, the moonlit 
Taurus mountains standing guard to our right. Mrs. 
Hanson regretted very much that she had not joined us 
in our excursion to Tarsus, as it had partly been arranged 
between us the day before. A strong gale blew into the 
teeth of our vessel, but as she cut straight through the 
waves, the swaying of the steamer was not considerable 
and seasickness did not make itself felt. 

In the morning, which was Sunday May thirteenth, 
the great mountain-chain of the Taurus receded to the 
right and fell into small spurs ahead. Our boat swept 
northward in a wide curve past the bay of Adalia toward 
the island of Rhodes. The sea was rough all day and 
the rebellious play of the waves brought on a sympathetic 
rebellion of the stomach. But with grim determination 
I sat on deck, writing about thirty pages of my journal. 
Frequently the next day we passed islands on both sides 
of us. Our steamer seemed to have shifted its load, for 
it hung considerably to the starboard side. Early in the 
afternoon, the island of Rhodes rose out of the sea and 
the steamer anchored a few hundred yards from its 
bastioned harbor-walls. The bright sunlight fell on the 

148 



Rhodes. 



old fortifications, now crumbling to ruins on both sides of 
the lively tree-shaded quay in the centre. Two circular 
stone piers ran out from each side of the town of Rhodes, 
ending in two strong towers at a distance of about a 
hundred yards from each other. The stalwart boatman, 
as he rowed past between these two towers said that on 
them stood astride the colossal statue of Rhodes. It 
must have been an immense statue, if that is true. I 
suspect that the original towers were much closer 
together. 

How easy these Rhodesians take life! Hundreds of 
chatting, smoking men in their airy Turkish costumes 
sat under the trees in full view of the harbor, sipping 
their coffee from tiny cups and inhaling the fumes of 
their nargilehs. They eyed us strangers with indolent 
glances as we passed. None of them seemed to think 
that the world would stop revolving, if they did not 
bestir themselves as we Americans do. Our boatman 
claimed to be a descendant of one of the Spanish knights, 
who defended Rhodes against the whole Turkish empire 
for several hundred years. He was only too willing to 
show us up some of the old streets of the town. The 
houses evidently were of European origin. Many of 
them had escutcheons of the noble families on their 
fronts. But all are falling into ruin. Not a soul is 
seen on the streets; the men are all down on the shady 
quay amusing themselves, while the women no doubt 
are secluded in these old houses. 

How easy it was to conjure up the forms of doughty 
knights of St. John, fighting the Moslem hosts up and 
down the steep cobbled streets, rivers of blood flowing 
between the mangled bodies of Christian and Turk to the 
seashore. Winding through some of the quaint streets, 
we came up to an old church with armorial bearings of 
some renowned family over the portals. The church is 
now used as a mosque. A wide stone stairs and platform 

149 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

leads up to the entrance. Here a band of knights made 
a desperate stand against the invaders, burying the 
stairs and platform beneath the bodies of the slain. 
The boatman pointed to some irregular dark spots on 
the stones of the stairs, claiming that they are the clots 
of blood of the slain. But of course that was rather 
hard to believe. 

Our steamer did not weigh anchor until the moon 
had risen and assumed her sway as the bright queen of 
the night. We sat in the stern, as the boat turned the 
bastions and towers of the old fortifications, watching 
the lights of Rhodes dwindling away, until at last only 
a solitary red light on a cliff-tower remained on the 
widening waters. Then the light of the moon grew 
brighter and brighter, the starry heaven spread its vast 
arch over the rippling sea and over the distant islands, 
while the buoyant vessel glided along in the soft zephyrs 
of the night. These are hours that wake fond musings 
and often recur to memory in after life. 

All forenoon next day, islands continued to rise and 
sink from our view out of the bosom of the blue deep. 
About mid-day we passed the island of Samos. The 
large town, overtopped by a mountain, lay in the sunshine 
nestled at the water's edge. Samos is almost independ- 
ent of Turkish dominion, on account of the great number 
of Greeks that inhabit it. The wine of Samos is famous 
all over the Orient. Our vessel did not touch at this 
port, but proceeded to Chios, where we arrived at about 
two o'clock. We landed with about a dozen gentlemen 
and a few ladies, and, after strolling through some of 
the bazaar streets, walked along the fine drive that 
curves along the beach around the outskirts of the town. 
Some of the residences, though not very large, were 
extremely tasteful, for the majority of the 70,000 inhabi- 
tants are Greeks, and it appears, well-to-do Greeks. 
The people seemed somewhat surprised at the large 

150 



Chios. 

party of strangers invading their town. Many a curious 
lady's face peeped out behind the Venetian blinds, to see 
what it all meant. The inhabitants are great lovers of 
flowers. Many had nosegays in their hands or at their 
breasts; wreaths of flowers decked the doors and win- 
dows of the houses ; flowers bloomed in the gardens and 
on the porches of the houses ; and the air was laden with 
perfume. Chios is a good-sized town at the foot of the 
mountains, that rise a few miles inward. Ruins of the 
earthquake, which nearly destroyed the town in 1881, 
still line some of the streets, though most of the town has 
been rebuilt in modern style. 

While sitting in a tavern partaking of some refresh- 
ments, a number of Greeks gathered around. I tried to 
scrape up from the storage rooms of memory, a little of 
the college Greek. Though the language has not 
changed so very much, except in some participial con- 
structions, yet the pronunciation of the words is so dif- 
ferent from college Greek, that they cannot be recog- 
nized. When we returned aboard ship, cattle were being 
unloaded. Not much ceremony was made with the 
poor beasts; a chain was placed around their horns in 
the hold; a signal was given to the man at the steam 
windlass and up through the hatches they came, held by 
the horns in mid-air. The derrick was swung over the 
bulwark and the struggling animal was lowered to a 
scow below. These cattle being thus disposed of, our 
steamer cheerily resumed its way to Smyrna. Again we 
enjoyed the beautiful moonlight, the starry dome of 
heaven, the calm sea, and the luxury of a reiterated 
pipe on the stern-deck. 



151 



CHAPTER XVII. 

In Smyrna — Abusing the Pestering Turk — St. 
Polycarp's Tomb — The Old Fort on the 
Mount — In the Streets of Smyrna — Fooling 
the Dougane — In Marmora Sea — Mytilene 
and the Dardanelles — Approaching Constan- 
tinople — A Fairy View. 

We arose early in order to see something of the vast 
and beautiful bay, at the eastern extremity of which 
Smyrna is situated. It is the most important city of the 
Turkish empire next to Constantinople, and contains 
nearly half a million inhabitants. The sun was just 
rising and only the smoke of the large city could as yet 
be seen over the prow of the vessel. High mountains, 
clothed in the green of olive groves and sloping pastures, 
lined the shore to our right. Two peaks called the 
"Two Brothers," or "Les Mamelles" overtopped all the 
rest. Two towns in the midst of gardens and varying 
fields were nestled halfway up their sloping bases. 
Farther on the large buildings of a fashionable bathing 
resort lay half concealed in a mountain gorge. The 
shores of the bay to our left were low and seemed to be 
more adapted to commercial and manufacturing pur- 
suits. A great deal of salt for the government monopoly 
is obtained on the sand-beach 

The first object that is apt to catch the eye on ap- 
proaching Smyrna is the great fort, dating from the 
time when the Genoese had possession. It occupies the 
brow of the mountain behind Smyrna. The city is 
spread out below along the sloping banks. Half way 
up the hill a vast, dark area of cypress trees divided into 

153 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

two portions indicates the Turkish cemetery. Every 
Mussulman likes to be buried, if possible, beneath 
the dark green roof of the stately cypress. 

Our steamer dropped anchor amid the numerous 
other vessels, close in-shore. A host of boatmen sur- 
rounded the vessel in order to bring the passengers to 
the custom house only a hundred feet away. A 
swarthy Greek captured us two, and agreed to land us 
and bring us back to the ship for a stipulated price. Our 
good opinion of Turkish harbor officials that had grad- 
ually grown upon us, was doomed to rude destruction. 
Our passes had seemed in perfect order to all those 
whom we had so far encountered in the smaller harbors ; 
now they were closely scrutinized and w r e were detained. 
Mine, the superintendent said, had not been viseed in 
Jaffa and must now be signed by government officials 
here. My companion's had not been viseed since leaving 
America, and was entirely worthless. Both could be set 
in order only by getting the signature of identification 
from the American consul. I would have to pay three, 
my companion eight medjid, before we could be allowed 
to enter Smyrna. 

I wonder to this day that the superintendent of the 
custom police did not arrest us on the spot for the lively 
row that now ensued between us and him. I know that 
any policeman in the United States would not have taken 
half the abuse the Turkish government got that day. I 
was thoroughly incensed at the unreasonableness of the 
demands. However, the Smyrnians seem to allow 
Americans a pretty wide berth in the kicking line. It 
was not so long ago that two American cruisers had 
entered this port to bombard the city, if a certain indem- 
nity was not immediately forthcoming. Our guide 
afterwards told us that the indemnity w r as paid, but that 
the business people would have liked to see the American 
tars stay longer. Business had taken a boom during 

154 



Smyrna. 



their presence. Our protests were not without result, 
for the superintendent finally allowed us to land on giv- 
ing guarantees that we would procure the necessary 
signatures during the day. 

The streets near the water are lined with great busi- 
ness houses, that is, great for the country we were in. 
Nothing of course like those of large American or Euro- 
pean cities. A mule tramway runs along the main street 
and terminates near the extensive barracks and military 
grounds. Bordering the latter is the busiest portion of 
the city, and the great hall of justice. The open porti- 
cos on the ground floor of the palace of justice were 
swarming with people and the fragrance of beautiful 
flower-gardens which extend on one side of the building, 
wafted in through the hallways. While our dragoman 
attended to the necessary formalities connected with the 
renewal of our passes, we sat in one of the Turkish coffee- 
houses opposite. There they sat, the ease-loving Turks, 
in their loose garments, some in lively conversation over 
their strong coffee, others filling their lungs with the 
smoke of costly nargilehs. The Turkish expression for 
smoking is "to drink the smoke " and very much like 
drinking their mode of inhaling seems to be. They do 
not take short puffs, but they inhale the smoke into their 
lungs as we would inhale* the air in a long breath. On 
little tables tiny cups of coffee, or glasses of the milky 
raki, or some other more cooling drink is served. In 
Rome do as the Romans, so I ordered one of the water- 
pipes and the other good things. The waiter, it seemed, 
wanted to please me, for he brought the finest nargileh 
in the establishment. The thick amber mouthpiece 
was at least six inches long, studded with jewels and 
inlaid with silver. The same adornments were on the 
long hose and on the joints at the crystal bowl. He 
heaped up uncut tobacco leaves on the silver top and 
applied fire. But I succeeded but indifferently in keep- 

155 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

ing the tobacco lighted. In the short time at my disposal 
I failed to see the luxury of holding the thick mouth- 
piece in the mouth and drawing away at it like an 
asthmatic. Beggars and peddlers of all kinds made 
their rounds, but every now and then the managers 
would rudely drive them out. Most of the beggars, 
our guide told us, were from Crete, where the Greeks 
are much oppressed by their Turkish masters since the 
last troubles of the Turkish empire with Greece. 

As our guide had returned with the required passes 
it was time to be astir. Our first objective point was 
the old Genoese fort on th hill. Along the winding 
road up the hill were the extensive barracks and parade 
grounds, where Turkish soldiers were drilling. We met 
several guards on the road who scrutinized the passengers 
for contraband goods, especially tobacco. From the 
top of the crumbling fortifications on the summit of the 
hill there is a magnificent view of the widespreading city 
below, of the blue bay and the shores beyond, and of the 
verdant valleys and wooded mountains toward the in- 
terior. The fort itself is but a ruin. The cement of 
the wall is so durable that it still holds together in huge 
blocks. In the center are large excavations, which were 
used as underground store-rooms by the garrison. A 
tunneled passage is said to run ten miles underground 
to the site of ancient Ephesus. 

We picked our way down the mountain to a place 
where a small building like a monument had attracted 
our attention. A green flag floated from it, as also from 
several other places. They indicate the burying places 
of Mohammedan dervishes or persons considered saints 
by the Mohammedans. This particular monument is 
venerated by the Mohammedans as the burying-place 
of St. Polycarp, the disciple of St. John. It was hard 
to figure out what connection these Turks could have 
with St. Polycarp. He was martyred here about five 

156 



Bazaars. 



hundred years before their preposterous Mahomet was 
born. Why should they set up a monument on a spot 
where he probably never was buried, and claim it as 
a holy place ? But if they really believed it to be his 
resting-place, why should they parade a whitewashed, 
crumbling wall as a befitting monument for so great a 
saint? On certain days the Moslems gather here and 
offer sacrifice of sheep, which is another curious anomaly, 
certainly not warranted by the Koran. That the keeper 
was not deceiving us in this regard, was evidenced by the 
fact that the trees behind the low structure were bespat- 
tered with clotted blood. 

After indulging in a regular Turkish dinner, in which 
pillau of course figured prominently, we strolled through 
the rich bazaars of the city. The silk and embroidery 
are especially remarkable in these bazaars. They are 
covered by glass roofs. Several caravans of camels 
passed through the narrow passages, while we sauntered 
through. The best way to avoid a collision with the 
heavily laden beasts is to duck under their widespreading 
loads, for you must not expect a camel, no more than a 
solid wall, to yield an inch. Get out of the way, or it 
will walk over you. 

We visited the Catholic church of St. Polycarp in 
the heart of the city. The front half of the church and 
many of the marble ornaments date back to the fourth 
century. It has lately been enlarged, so that now it con- 
tains three naves, most beautifully decorated. The style 
of the interior is a peculiarly pleasing mixture of the 
Renaissance and Byzantine. One of the fathers in 
charge of the parish disbelieved any connection between 
the Moslem tomb and St. Polycarp, except that a very 
unreliable tradition indicated that neighborhood as the 
place of his martyrdom. 

On getting aboard again, I found that I had lost 
one of the books that I had bought. Not wishing to 

157 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

have any more trouble with the boats, I climbed onto 
a scow which connected with the shore. This mode of 
getting ashore was altogether against the regulations of 
the custom house, but none of the guards noticed me. 
The trouble came when I returned the same way. Just 
as I reached the ship's ladder, guards came rushing 
along the shore shouting after me. As quickly as possi- 
ble I mounted over the bulwarks out of their sight. I 
knew that they could not have gotten a full view of me 
in their excitement. Therefore I deliberately carried a 
steamer chair to the sterndeck and sat myself down, look- 
ing at them as if their shouting and running were only a 
matter of complacent curiosity to me. One of them 
ventured to point me out to the rest, but as I seemed 
only highly amused, he began to doubt my identity. 
For about fifteen minutes the guards searched the vessel, 
while I sat in full view. They finally gave up the search. 
This was at least some satisfaction for the trouble they 
had caused me in the morning. 

A certain doctor in Smyrna had alarmed the city by 
claiming that he had found a case of bubonic plague. 
But as the statement proved false, the wrath of the 
inhabitants was thoroughly roused. They gathered 
at his residence, and would have mobbed him if the 
police had not made it possible for him to escape from 
the city. Only a few days later, however, the plague 
did really break out, and quarantine was enforced against 
all vessels that touched there after us. At about seven 
o'clock the Aphrodite steamed out of the spacious bay 
and headed northward to the Dardanelles. 

In the morning the loud voice of the captain roused 
us from sleep in order to undergo examination by the 
doctor. He had come aboard from Mytilene, where 
our vessel lay anchored. The city was soon spread 
out on the sloping shores on both sides of a headland. 
An old fort occupied the summit of a hill, the dark walls 

158 



The Dardanelles. 



of which straggled up and down over the declivities. 
At one o'clock we passed the island of Tenedos, of 
Homeric renown, and soon after the plateau-lands of 
old Ilion, or Troy. Then the narrow passage of the 
Dardanelles hove in sight. The shores of the ocean 
approach each side for two or three miles like the 
banks of a river, though in other places they again recede 
to form wide basins. 

In the harbor of Renku, just before entering the sea 
of Marmora or Hellespont, we were detained several 
hours by custom officers. English steamers and tugs 
disported themselves in the blue waters and the dazzling 
rays of the sun were reflected from the intensely white 
buildings of Renku. The vessel proceeded very slowly, 
for on the next morning we were still in the sea of Mar- 
mora. The lead-colored waters of Marmora stretched 
away to the dim and hazy shores on both sides, until San 
Stefano and Makriki appeared on the low banks to the 
left. These towns are only some eighteen miles from 
Constantinople. The Russian army had advanced to 
this neighborhood in the last Turkish war of 1878, 
when England and the other powers interfered to save 
the Sick Man of the East. To the right of us the islands 
of Pinte, Antigone, Chalkis, and Principe, famous 
pleasure resorts for the inhabitants of Constantinople, 
rose out of the sea. Behind them the Asiatic Olympus 
gleamed in perpetual snows. 

On entering the Bosphorus we were of course on 
the lookout for the first view of Constantinople. All 
travelers agree that the view of the city from the en- 
trance of the Bosphorus is one of the most beautiful 
sights to be seen anywhere. Unfortunately the atmos- 
phere was filled with haziness and the heavens were 
covered with rain-clouds; on this account we lost 
much of the beauty of the scene. Yet even so the view 
was beautiful. As the ship rounded the four islands, 

159 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

the city began to rise over the waters like a fairy creation. 
The countless towers and minarets, St. Sophia and the 
old palaces of Stambul ; then the branch waters of the 
Bosphorus, and the Golden Horn passed in view. Soon 
also appeared the tower of Galata, and back of it the buil- 
dings of Pera overlooking the Golden Horn and the older 
Istambul. As the vessel skimmed along the narrowing 
channel of the Bosphorus, both these divisions of the city 
unfolded themselves more and more, while to the right 
the green heights of Bulgourlu and the suburbs on the 
Asiatic shore glided into view. Farther on some of the 
great white palaces and old castles line both sides of the 
magnificent Bosphorus. The distant mountains cut off 
the view of the Black sea. 



160 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Custom House Amenities — Dancing Dervishes — 
On the Golden Horn — Perversity in Gray 
Hairs — Turkish Harems Turned Loose — 
Rainbound — Galata and Pera — The Ubiqui- 
tous Dog — Nocturnal Harmony. 

Our ship dropped anchor opposite Galata, the 
Genoese addition to Stambul. A host of small boats 
soon encircled the vessel to wait for passengers. Most 
of them had followed us for an hour or more. Naturally 
we were anxious to get ashore. But we were in Turkish 
territory, where time seems to be of no value. We 
waited several hours for the laggard doctors in order to 
undergo the insignificant examination for quarantine. 
It was long past noon when we were finally permitted 
to consign ourselves to the tender mercies of the ravenous 
boatmen, runners, and custom officials. The latter 
marauders, failing to see us offer a sufficient bakshish, 
retained the fragment of a Greek bible and some 
Baedeckers from our baggage. They gave us to under- 
stand that these books must be examined lest they contain 
anything derogatory 7 to the Turkish government. We 
took our lodgings at Hotel Kroeker on Pera Hill, whence 
we had a splendid view of old Stambul from our third- 
story window. 

At dinner a gray-haired man, who had just arrived 
from Bohemia, was volubly talking to any and every 
one, evidently considering himself a man who had seen 
something of the world and was entitled to be heard. 
In our presence he unspun all his plans for his three 
weeks' stay to Philips, our guide. "The first thing we 

161 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

must do to-day," he said, "is to make the trip up the 
Golden Horn," for on Friday (which it happened to be 
that day) all the beauties of the harems would be gathered 
on its banks. Philips had already made engagements to 
that effect with him. However, as the dancing dervishes 
were to have their weekly performance in a mosque not 
far off, we left the eccentric Bohemian to his own volu- 
bility for the present and betook ourselves to that place. 
It was an octagonal building, the center of which 
was portioned off by a circular railing as a dancing 
floor. Already the other space between the walls and 
railing was filled with spectators. At the head of 
the dancing floor there was an opening in the railing, 
behind which some distinguished Turks in rich uni- 
forms were sitting. Along the circular railing on 
the dancing floor, in groups of three and with bowed 
heads, sat the dervishes. They wore gray caps, some- 
thing like stovepipes without rims, and were dressed in 
plaited petticoats. From the gallery were heard the 
muffled sounds of kettle-drums and squeaking instru- 
ments. Presently these sounds w r ere augmented by a 
howling song. Thereupon the dervishes began to raise 
their heads as if awakened from a trance. They got 
on their feet and began to walk around, making a low 
bow whenever they passed a green-mantled Turk, at 
the opening of the railing. After the second round they 
began to whirl around like tops, using one foot as a pivot. 
Faster and faster they whirled, more and more unearthly 
screeched and rumbled the music above. The der- 
vishes began to stretch out their arms, holding one palm 
upward, the other downward, head and eyes turned 
heavenward. Their loose gowns began to spread out 
centrifugally, so that they looked like weird witches in 
immense hoopskirts. The din above was now and 
then interrupted by a loud w T ail, while the green-man- 
tled overseer cast an eye of disapproval on the laggards 

162 



Dancing Dervishes 



to urge them to greater celerity. So these bony, fantastic 
forms, some young, some old, kept whirling around 
on their one foot and moving around the circle for 
half an hour. 

It seemed most senseless to the beholder. They, 
however, imagine that they are engaged in the highest 
kind of prayer, and in a total abandonment in the hands 
of Allah. But as far as outward appearance is con- 
cerned, it would be hard to find more repulsive features 
on the streets of Constantinople. We left before they had 
ceased their whirling, in order to make our excursion to 
the sweet waters of Europe, or the Golden Horn 

Worshek, the Bohemian, meanwhile had gotten him- 
self ready, and we soon arrived at the old bridge and in- 
stalled ourselves in one of the river-ferries. They ply in 
all directions and serve as the principal means of com- 
munication between the different parts of the city. Our 
gray-haired companion drew upon himself the attention 
of the motley crowds on the steamer by his loud and con- 
ceited remarks. He was a regular coxcomb in spite of 
his gray hair, babbling about the charms of the women 
around him and wishing they would only raise their 
veils. When I used the word " harem, " he warned me 
not to use that word again. If any Turks would hear 
that word, we would certainly be mobbed. The old 
man remembered having read this in some antediluvian 
guidebook. Of course we could but laugh at the vain 
fears of our lively companion. 

Having swiftly passed up the Golden Horn between 
old Stambul on the left and Pera on the right, we disem- 
barked in order to make the rest of the way in one of the 
graceful boats which can be rented on the banks. They 
are manned by dexterous oarsmen. The Golden Horn 
soon narrows to a medium-sized stream, for it is nothing 
else than a brook, which comes down from the moun- 
tains on the European side, and which has been widened 

163 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

out to a distance of about three miles from Constanti- 
nople. Its banks have been turned into gardens and 
pleasant lawns for public pleasure-grounds. At the foot 
of the hills there are some villages belonging to the 
Sultan's family. Thousands of boats, gaily decorated, 
some large, others small, swarmed in the narrowing 
channel. 

Along the banks were men and women of all ages and 
conditions, in all sorts of dress. The Turkish women, 
either by themselves or accompanied by the men, moved 
about or sat on the grass or under leafy bowers. Nearly 
all wore veils, occasionally drawn up and allowing 
glimpses of their features, they themselves casting sly 
looks at the passers-by. Our old Bohemian hotspur 
stared at the women, calling them beauties and making 
other loud remarks about them. I myself could see 
nothing particularly charming about their depressed and 
pale faces. They looked to me more like despairing 
invalids, out for a breath of fresh air. The women of 
Europe and America do not know what a sad life four- 
fifths of their sex live in heathen and Mohammedan 
countries. They are the mere toys or slaves of the 
brutalized men. In Christian countries woman is 
regarded as the equal, and in some respects, as the 
superior of man, as long as she knows how to keep 
her place. Through the Mother of Christ she has been 
raised from her position of slavery, to the level of man. 
Through Her alone she has regained some of the 
charms of the original Eve, whereby she reigns over the 
heart of the sterner sex. The "new woman" is on a 
fair way to return to the position of her sisters in the 
Orient. 

When we had rowed up the Golden Horn about half 
the distance, rain seemed imminent and most of the count- 
less boats were pushing homeward. Among them were 
also some large barges, with fifty or sixty persons, who 

164 



Ox the Golden Horn. 



had rowed up from the Black Sea. On one of these a 
negro was dancing and singing for the amusement of the 
crowd. At the end of the Sweet Waters we alighted and 
took some lemonade in a summerhouse built of leafy 
branches of trees. Several carriages passed us with 
members of the Sultan's household. On our return it 
began to rain, but there was still a great number of boats 
with merry passengers. The Turkish soldiers and 
officers made themselves especially noticeable, as is 
soldier fashion all over Europe when ladies are present. 
The shower did not last long and behind us the sun again 
broke through the rain-clouds. As we approached Stam- 
bul and Pera the bright yellow light of the evening 
flashed from the windows of the old palaces and buildings 
on the terraced hillside, and made the city seem a world 
of fire. 

Old Worshek had kept up his incessant babbling 
and now took me to task, because I had said I would 
not be ready for a start in the morning, until I had trans- 
acted my business at a certain church. This started 
him off on religion, and he asked me, whether I was still 
so benighted as to believe in the existence of a God. 
Nowadays, he said, not one in a hundred persons could 
be found in Europe, that still believed in a personal God. 
Of course we all laughed heartily at the absurdity of his 
assertion. We had just come from Jerusalem, where 
five hundred of his countrymen had made the pilgrimage 
to the grave of the Godman. I asked him how it came, 
that he himself was continually using the name of God 
in his conversation. "O, that is only a habit," he said. 
His brother, he said, was one of those fools, that still 
practice the religion which his parents had instilled into 
them in their youth; he himself was more enlightened. 
Philips, the guide, and even the Turkish boatman when 
he came to understand what our conversation was 
about, could not repress their disgust at the vagaries of 

165 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

the gray-haired infidel. He was getting quite angry, for 
he saw that none of his arguments had a ghost of a show 
in the company, and that he was making a laughing-stock 
of himself. Rising up in the boat and clenching his 
fist toward heaven, he defied the Almighty to strike him 
dead, and he gave me leave to call down upon him the 
thunderbolts of heaven. I asked him whether his ex- 
citement was not a new proof, that in his heart he be- 
lieved in the existence of a God, and whether it was not 
evidently a vain attempt to suppress the secret dread of 
an outraged deity in his heart ? Perhaps before he would 
get back to Bohemia, he would find out how well ground- 
ed his fears were. It was certainly a disgusting sight to 
see an old man disporting himself in such a manner. 

From some remark that I made after we had landed, 
he learnt that I was one of the " brood of Catholic 
priests," as he called them on the boat. He was quite 
taken aback, w r hen he saw that he had been talking to a 
Catholic priest all the while, and it seemed he was some- 
what ashamed of himself. I told him to be at ease, for 
I had met people of his stamp before, and I knew how to 
condole with them. The poor man had very likely 
associated only with the ignorant riff-raff of humanity, 
that tries to conceal their inward dread of punishment by 
their malicious ranting against the existence of God. 
This time at least he had met some one ready to con- 
tradict his blasphemies with a violence equal to his own, 
and found that his arguments brought him nothing but 
ridicule. At supper the insuppressible old man monop- 
olized the conversation of the whole dining-room, and, 
having bluffed the rest of the party into silence, he ad- 
dressed himself to me across the table. He made some 
slighting remarks concerning the United States. I asked 
him on what authority he made the statements, he an- 
swered that he had " heard it said." I asked him point- 
edly, whether he knew nothing about that country, except 

166 



Gal at a. 



what "was said," which made him subside like the 
froth on the tip of a wave. He steered shy of me during 
the rest of our stay at hotel Kroeker. 

The next day was the first really rainy day which we 
experienced on our trip since we left Manila. The streets 
were not in a fit condition to do much sight-seeing. We 
managed, however, to find the nearest Catholic church, 
that of St. Anthony, in charge of the Italian Franciscans. 
Rev. Othmar Blanchard, a Swiss father, treated us very 
kindly. In the afternoon during a pause in the rain we 
strolled along the main street running up from Galata 
through Pera. It presents an appearance quite Euro- 
pean, fine stores and other buildings lining it on both 
sides. But it is a very narrow part of the way and the 
sidewalks are mostly stone paths, not by far wide enough 
for the great number of passengers. It is traversed by 
narrow and rickety horse-cars, on which the charges are 
in inverse proportion to the convenience afforded. My 
criticisms in that regard were listened to with evident 
satisfaction by the passengers who rode down to Galata 
with us; yet they seemed cautious in their answers. I 
afterwards found out, that it is not at all safe for anyone 
to criticise under the rule of Abdul Hamid, especially 
not for any of the inhabitants. I often noticed, that they 
eyed me with suspicion and cast cautious glances around 
on the by-standers, when I launched out in criticism. 
No one is sure, whether government spies are not hover- 
ing around to catch a treasonous word in order to bring 
it to headquarters. 

Leaving the cars near the Galata strand, we strolled 
up and down some of the busiest streets. This part of 
Constantinople dates back to the time of the Genoese in 
the thirteenth century. When the Moslems took Stam- 
bul from them, the Genoese were allowed to settle out- 
side the old walls across the Golden Horn. Quite a 
number of Christians gathered here in course of time, 

167 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

and they built a tower on the summit of the hill for pur- 
poses of defense. This tower is now used for a watch- 
tower of the fire department. Between this tower and 
the shores of the Bosphorus are many ruinous and nar- 
row lanes, some of them having no outlet. Here the 
sailors and beggars and the more villainous portion of 
the population have their haunts and pursue their secret 
or boisterous vocations and carousals. It is no doubt 
an unsavory neighborhood for the stranger, and it is not 
provided with any superfluous illumination. There 
were numerous resorts for pleasure or for drink in the 
by-ways and lanes, all well frequented. Nearer to the 
water and towards the bridge, the streets are crowded 
with people of all nations and all conditions, from the 
ragged Turk or Kurd hamal to the rich merchant with 
gaudy turban or red fez and wide pantaloons; the 
swarthy Arab or armed Cherkese mingles with the swell 
Armenian or sight-hunting European traveler. 

Of course we soon became acquainted with the real 
street-owners of Constantinople. They enjoy great 
privileges without paying any taxes. Theirs is the right 
of way, respected even by the street-car monopoly. Be- 
sides, they have a first lien on all perquisites for sustain- 
ing life, that may be found on the streets. I refer to the 
dogs of Constantinople : a wolfish, longtailed, blear-eyed 
progeny, covered with dirty gray or brownish bristling 
hair and occupying, singly or in packs, the walks, the 
gutters, and cobble-pavements of the streets. No genuine 
native of the city would think of disturbing the beasts as 
they lie in his way. Much less would any of these four- 
legged lords of the streets make an offer to get up for any 
biped, man or woman, that might have occasion to use 
the path. Carts or carriages must make a detour for 
their litters lying in the middle of the street. Each 
neighborhood is in possession of a certain breed of dogs, 
who will quickly tear to pieces any dog from another 

168 



The Dogs. 



quarter, that may stray among them. Not unfrequently 
a dozen curs could be seen scouring across a square 
furiously pursuing a luckless canine, whom hunger or 
love-making had induced to leave the territory in which 
he first saw the light of day. Now and then a loud 
snarling resounded, where a group of dogs of the same 
territory fell to quarreling over some castaway bone or 
other garbage. They are the scavengers of Constanti- 
nople, which in a measure might explain the privileges 
they enjoy. As it had rained on this day, they had as- 
sumed special rights over any dry spot on the pavement 
or narrow walks. The foot-passengers therefore were 
not unfrequently obliged to step into the mud of the gutter 
in order to pass around the festive canines. One of 
them had installed herself with a litter of some nine half- 
blind pups in a box on the middle of the walk. Another 
was fondly licking a couple of her progeny on the stone 
sill of a palatial building. No one thought of driving 
them out of the way, and some of them snarled viciously 
at passengers w T ho dared to come too near in passing. 

Our objective point had been the douane or custom- 
house, where we wanted to make inquiries about the 
books which had been detained the day before. For 
some time we were unable to find an outlet in the maze of 
streets of Galata, but when we finally reached the douane, 
they told us that our books had not yet been examined 
and we must wait. It had in the meanwhile begun to 
grow dusk and to rain, so our walk up the hill was not of 
the pleasantest. However, we reached hotel Kroeker 
without sustaining any other harm than the rain could 
do us. This we soon forgot at the supper-table and in 
our room upstairs. 

The rain kept up its incessant splash on the sill of the 
open window during the night. Adjoining the hotel were 
the remains of a large cypress grove, which formerly 
served as a Mohammedan cemetery. Streets had been 

169 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

cut through it, many of the trees had disappeared, and 
business houses had invaded the abode of the dead. On 
some other night, as we sat at the open window, the 
wonderful harmony of a song reached our ears. It came 
from a party of Greeks, w T ho were passing through this 
cemetery. Faintly at first from the distance the four- 
voiced song trembled through the night air, then louder 
and louder as they approached, dying away again, as 
they passed down toward the water. Very often during 
the night, peculiarly sharp thuds sounded up from the 
streets. The night-watchmen thump the pavement 
with their ironclad staffs as they make their rounds. 
A fine arrangement for the thieves and crooks: they 
could calculate to a minute, how long they might con- 
tinue in any incident night-job, before the watchman 
would be close enough to interfere. What matters a 
small intermission? The receding thumps of the staff 
would soon indicate the peaceful passage of the watch- 
man, and they could resume their work. I think our 
policemen could learn a trick or two from these night- 
watchmen in Constantinople; they could learn to make 
their rounds in dangerous places without fear of en- 
countering any member of the fraternity of night- workers. 



170 



CHAPTER XIX. 

Mass in Istambxtl — Over the Swarming Bridge 
— Agia Sophxa. — Old Remnants — Stambul 
Scenes — To Skutari — Splendid View — 
About Armenlan Massacres — On Horseback 
oyer the Hills — Sunset on the Bosphorus — 
Black and Roaring Waters — Much Ado about 
Nothing — Over Ruined Walls. 

I had been invited by Father Blanchard to say mass 
at eight o'clock on Sunday. It is the glorious privilege 
of the Catholic traveler to be able to attend the same 
kind of worship that he has been accustomed to since 
his childhood, in all parts of the world, though he may 
be ten thousand miles from home. He begins to under- 
stand, that he belongs truly to the one universal and 
unchangeable church, unchangeable by time or place. 
In the midst of Mohammedanism we could kneel and 
join in the same glorious homage of the Savior and in the 
same consoling veneration of the Queen of Heaven. 
Here and in many French and Italian churches I saw 
some men of the congregation during service kneeling 
and receiving Holy Communion in the sanctuary, while 
the women received it at the communion railing. 

Generally there are very few seats in European 
churches; the congregation kneel or stand promiscu- 
ously on the stone pavement. On examining the reg- 
ister of the Sacristy I found the name of Rev. Heuser, 
editor of the Ecclesiastical Review, and also the names 
of the priests of the German caravan to Jerusalem. 

After breakfast we went to get a good view of Con- 
stantinople from the Galata tower. A circular stairs 

171 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

leads round the massive walls to the height of about 
fifty meters. Six centuries of wear have hollowed out 
the two hundred steps that lead to the top. From its 
tin-covered roof we could survey the whole surrounding : 
St. Sophia and the other great mosques, the arches of the 
ancient aqueduct more than a thousand years old, the 
remains of the city walls, winding around the old city 
from the Golden Horn to the Sea of Marmora. The obe- 
lisk, dating back to Roman times, and the Seraskian tower 
overtop the sea of buildings in the middle of old Stam- 
bul. To the south, across the Bosphorus, Skutari, Bul- 
gourlu hill, and several other suburbs lined the shore, 
while the Asiatic Olympus gleamed over the Princess 
islands. The morning sun had driven off the rain-clouds 
of the previous day and brightly shone over all the varied 
panorama. 

The old bridge, connecting Galata with Stambul, is 
only a ramshackle wooden affair resting on pontoons, 
but it is a goldmine for the Sultan. They do not bother 
the passengers with tickets; six or seven collectors on 
each end stand in a row across the roadway collecting 
the metaliques from the crowds as they pass. You pay 
your cash and pass over or stay on the bridge all day, if 
you like. It is quite worth while lingering, for there is 
probably no place in the world, where so many and so 
varied kinds of people pass within a given time, as on this 
bridge. What a vast variety of physiognomies even in 
one hour! It seems as if all the nations of the world had 
appointed this their meeting-place on the confines of 
Europe and Asia. 

Omitting a visit to the mausoleum Valide at the other 
end of the bridge, we entered on the Serai or old palace 
grounds of Constantinople. The palaces are mostly in 
ruins, but the grounds are laid out in drives and patches 
of park. A plantain tree, dating back to remote times, 
measures thirty-five feet in circumference at a man's 

172 



St. Sophia. 



height. Under it, in times gone by, many a squad of 
Janizaries have lain, opposite the gate of death, where 
their clamor for the heads of obnoxious pashas rose 
up to the windows of the Sultan's palace. And here 
they dispatched many a victim of their resentment as 
soon as the Sultan had yielded to their clamors and sent 
them their victims through the old portals of the Serai. 
Passing under this gate of death, we stood in sight of the 
great mosque St. Sophia. Exteriorly it looks like a 
conglomeration of smaller buildings and additions 
surmounted by a vast cupola. During the Moslem 
occupation additions have been made to the great 
church without any regard for taste or architecture, so 
that any architectural beauty of the outside, if there was 
any originally, is completely hidden. Justinian, who 
completed it, would scarcely recognize it, if he were to 
come upon it of a sudden. 

Passing by the main portal, which is reserved solely 
for the Sultan, we came through a narrow street to the 
front, where a vast carved door gave entrance to an 
arched hall or atrium. From this hall several entrances 
open into the main body of the mosque. The Turks will 
not neglect this chance of collecting bakshish from the 
stranger. Any giaour, that wants to inspect the mosque, 
must pay a medjid, equal to one dollar. The corridor 
or vestibule is richly decorated with mosaics and the great 
doors are of carved bronze. Before entering the mosque 
proper a Turk will intercept you and require you to put 
on slippers or take off your shoes. Inside, the vast 
dome rises magnificently on four marble columns. 
These columns are spanned by four immense arches 
which support the lower base of the cupola. So correct 
is the proportion that at first one does not realize the 
dimensions of the great dome. The substructure, above 
which this vast cupola rises, is the form of a cross and 
about 270 feet wide. A gallery 50 feet wide runs around 

i73 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

three sides behind the marble pillars, which support the 
dome. The whole vast surface of the dome and of the 
walls down to a certain height, was formerly of rich 
mosaics, but now is daubed with tasteless stencil ara- 
besques in yellow, black, or blue colors. In many of the 
fields the mosaic images of the saints and of the Savior, 
that adorned the church in Christian times, still appear 
in outline behind the Moslem daubing. 

The whole area of the mosque is bare of furniture 
except the mihrab and two huge wax candlesticks. 
Around some of the pillars were railings, within which 
dervishes were reciting the Koran in loud monotonous 
voices. One little chap was all alone within one of these 
railings, swinging to and fro on his knees in his efforts to 
get the Koran by heart. To the left of the mihrab, a black 
stone slab was immured into the wall : this is a piece 
of the Kaaba at Mecca and is held most sacred by the 
Moslems. Many pious Turks make pilgrimages to this 
stone instead of going to Mecca. Under the galleries are 
spacious porticos or halls, supported by pillars of rare 
stone. The larger of these pillars, supporting the prin- 
cipal arches of the halls, are spoils from renowned build- 
ings of ancient times. The vaulted ceilings of the por- 
ticos are beautifully mosaicked. 

Though the Agia Sophia was founded by Constantine, 
Justinian, two hundred years later, is its rebuilder and 
completer. It is therefore nearly fourteen hundred years 
old. In 1452 it passed into the hands of the Moham- 
medans. On one of the great columns near the western 
entrance, at a height of about fifteen feet, is seen a daub 
of red color. The Turks believe that it is the impress 
of the hand of Mahomet II on the day of his victo- 
rious entrance. The last refuge of the defenders of the 
city was St. Sophia. Around this pillar were piled the 
bodies of the slain ten feet high. When all the Christians 
had been slain, Mahomet climbed on top of this heap of 

174 



Mosques. 



dead and laid his gory hand against this pillar in sign of 
victory. No amount of paint, according to Moslem 
belief, will wipe out this stain. St. Sophia did not strike 
me as the great wonder it is claimed to be. The dome 
of St. Peter in Rome is 193 feet in diameter and 448 feet 
high, while that of St. Sophia is only 107 feet across and 
183 high. Of course the fact, that the Turks have so 
miserably disfigured the interior by their daubing, and 
the fact, that the building is misused for a mosque rather 
than for its original purpose as a Christian church, must 
be taken into consideration. 

Not far from Agia Sophia is the ancient hippodrome, 
or rather the remains of it ; namely, the bronze serpentine 
pillar, broken at half its length, the carved obelisk, and 
traces of the race course. Many a gay scene, no doubt, 
was here witnessed in the times of the Roman emperors 
of the East. Nearby is the Janizar museum, containing 
life-size wax figures of army and court officials, dressed 
in the uniforms used during the centuries of Turkish 
domination. The Ahmet mosque is an imitation of St. 
Sophia, with a larger dome. Its interior is covered 
with white and blue tile, making it look still more bare 
and cold than that of St. Sophia. Of the many mauso- 
leums of Constantinople, that of Hamid Assis is the 
most remarkable. The members of the Sultan's family 
are here buried under sarcophagi, covered with black 
velvet palls, richly embroidered. Costly memorials from 
the sovereigns of Europe are placed around in the same 
apartment, among them two heavy candlesticks from 
Queen Victoria, and a magnificent golden clock from the 
emperor of France. On silver stands are copies of 
the Koran written by the Sultans; that of Haroun al 
Rashid being especially remarkable. Each Sultan is 
expected to copy the Koran at least once in his life. In 
the beautiful cemetery surrounding the mosque are the 
monuments of the many celebrated Turkish statesmen 

175 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

and generals of former times. The whole cemetery 
seemed one bouquet of exquisite flowers, especially roses 
in full bloom. 

A few turns brought us into the midst of the old 
streets and lanes of Stambul. In one of the small lunch 
rooms we had a dinner in regular Turkish fashion. 
These dinners, as I have remarked before, are admirably 
adapted to drive away hunger and not merely to pass 
away time. Our good dragoman, Philips, did not for- 
get himself in giving orders, you may be sure. After- 
wards he persuaded us to go to the bazaars, where he 
expected his friends, the stall-keepers, to ease us of some 
of our superfluous cash. This time it was in the shape of 
rosewater, which we had hinted as a possible purchase. 
The native merchant brought out six glass sticks bored 
like a thermometer, each containing about a drop and a 
half of the fluid and offered them to us at forty francs. 
He said that was about their price in any other shop. 
With great perversity we offered ten or twelve francs 
and finally concluded the bargain at twenty francs. 
With much ado, the Turk asked us whether we would 
take it on our conscience to make him lose so much at 
one fell swoop. We though we could take that and 
much more on our conscience. Afterwards we found 
out that to have offered five francs would have been 
a very liberal offer for the stuff. 

All kinds of European and Oriental merchandise is 
exposed under these glass-covered roofs of the vast 
bazaars. A goodly proportion of the merchandise sold 
as Oriental is made in wholesale quantities in Europe 
and America and shipped to the Orient. The shop- 
keepers are of course always on the alert for the stranger 
and mostly succeed in palming off their goods at fancy 
prices. The guide generally extols the wares to the skies 
and gets a share of the booty. On the whole, the bazaars 
pleased me less than those I had seen in the far East. 

176 



Skutari, 



Under the glass roofs they have lost much of the Oriental 
variety and picturesqueness, and I fancy, that in a few 
years they will resemble merely our great department 
stores. 

Our next move was a passage on one of the steam- 
boats across the Bosphorus to Skutari. There we soon 
procured three fine horses for a ride up to the heights of 
Bulgourlu. Skutari is a large addition to Constantinople 
on the Asiatic side of the Bosphorus. The streets here 
are wide and the houses seem commodious. The road 
up to Bulgourlu leads through some of these streets and 
then past fine gardens, residences, and summer-resorts 
on the slopes of the hill. Our horses, though hired, had 
some fire of youth left, and each one of us, as is usual with 
those seldom on horseback, thought it his duty to show a 
little of his horsemanship. So, every now and then, one 
or the other of us would whip up the horse he was rid- 
ing and make a spurt ; of course the other two would 
have to follow, if they did not want to load upon them- 
selves eternal shame as indifferent riders. My traveling 
companion claimed, that he often hired horses in Du- 
buque on Sunday afternoons to ride out with his friends. 
I of course, as a Bedouin sheik, and one that had done a 
great deal of camping out, had to keep up some sort 
of appearances. As for our guide Philips, he had to 
prove himself a good rider on general principles, for these 
guides claim to be paragons of all kinds of acquisition 
and skill. To tell the truth, however, the three of us 
must have been shamming ; in our inmost souls we were 
conscious of the insecurity of our exalted position, and 
after a while, no doubt, also of the chafing and thumping 
of certain portions of our anatomy, used to more sedate 
and gentle treatment. But what will vanity not accom- 
plish ? 

We arrived on the top of the mount in less than an 
hour, and were rewarded by a charming prospect and a 

177 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

pleasant rest on the greensward. Other pleasure seekers 
were scattered here and there on the hilltop ; some well 
to do Armenians, some Greeks and Turks. An awning 
was put up by some enterprising individual, under which 
he sold lemonade and other refreshments. Pieces of 
Turkish Delight, a sort of soft candy steeped in powdered 
sugar, were brought with each order. Constantinople, 
spread out in the sunshine on the other shore of the 
Bosphorus, lined with beautiful villas and summer 
resorts, stretched away to our right where the opening 
of the Bosphorus permitted a glimpse of the Black sea 
through dark mountain walls. Glassy Marmora 
stretched away to our left, varied by the group of islands 
on the horizon. Behind us the verdant hills and valleys 
of Asiatic Turkey met the gaze in glorious sunshine. On 
looking from this mountain over these pleasant scenes, 
one is loth to remember, that this beautiful country was 
wrested from Christian civilization by the barbaric 
Turk, and that his blighting footstep still rests on these 
fair provinces. Tyranny and bloodshed terrorize the 
inhabitants. Philips, casting a wary glance at the pleas- 
ure seekers, that might be within hearing, said that he 
himself had witnessed the stabbing, shooting, and cud- 
geling of inhabitants in the streets of Constantinople 
three years ago. According to his assertions, the Ar- 
menians were really the first aggressors, throwing stones 
and shooting from housetops at Turkish soldiers, in the 
hope of causing an insurrection against the -Sultan's 
government. Thereupon the Turkish soldiers began to 
massacre every Armenian found walking the streets of 
Constantinople, and they were seconded in a lively man- 
ner by the Turkish populace. 

Again we bestrode our horses and descended in a 
different direction toward the great Moslem cemetery on 
the Asiatic side. It is seen as a vast cypress forest on 
the slope of the hill. The devout Mussulman does not 

178 



Eyoub, 



like to rest on European soil, but will seek to be buried 
on Asiatic soil, where the tomb of Mahomet and the 
Kaaba stands. This accounts for the vastness of this 
cemetery. The high cypress trees are so closely planted, 
that their crowns completely shut out the light of day. 
Even more thickly beneath them are set the upright 
slabs of stone, that mark the graves of the Moslems. 
Some of the stones are left in their natural roughness 
as they come from the quarry, others have a turbaned 
head carved on top. Many of them are standing up- 
right, others are beginning to topple over or are lying pell- 
mell on the ground in great confusion. As much as the 
Moslem likes to visit his graveyards and cherish the 
memory of the dead, he cares little to exert himself in 
propping up the falling headpieces or repair the ravages 
of time. If the headstone falls, is it not the will of Allah ? 
Through the midst of this grove we rode on a water- 
washed trail, the stones looking like the heads of ghosts 
on the wayside. In many places the path led over 
groups of these fallen stones. Robbers are said to in- 
fest this cemetery, for in the vast recesses of its forest 
they would find thousands of hiding places to elude any 
pursuit. So deep is the shade cast by the trees, that a 
perpetual gloom reigns beneath, and though it was a hot 
sunny day, the air was quite chilly. 

Issuing again from these dismal scenes into the sun- 
light, Philips set his horse into a gallop over a wide pas- 
ture; we followed of course, neck or nothing, over the 
uneven ground. As mine seemed to be the best of the 
three nags, it soon overtook Philip's, while the third 
spurted on behind. We rode past the English church 
and graveyard where the soldiers who fell in the Crimean 
war are buried. In the summer-resort nearby a band of 
Bohemian girls gave a concert, while the garden in front 
was filled with listening and ogling men. 

Instead of one of the large ferries, which we missed, we 

179 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

took a rowboat to cross the broad Bosphorus. Swiftly 
the sharp bow cleaved the waves, as the last rays of the 
sun glittered on the water and fringed the storm-clouds 
above the city with burnished gold. Before we had half 
crossed, the dusk began to settle. But by the lusty ex- 
ertions of the two oarsmen we reached the old bridge and 
elbowed our way through the throngs to our hotels. We 
had put in a busy day of sight-seeing, and when we 
counted up our expenses, we found that they amounted 
to about 220 piastres for both, which would make nearly 
nine dollars of American money. But this expense was 
quite unusual with us ; all our expenses, including rail- 
road and steamer tickets for the journey, amounted on 
an average to only seven dollars a day. Conservative 
travelers estimate the daily expense of a journey at about 
eight dollars a person, not counting the amount spent 
for transportation. 

After mass at St. Anthony's next day we took passage 
in one of the steamers up the Bosphorus nearly to the 
Black sea. Charming scenery is presented as the boat 
glides up the now wider, now narrower, channel. On its 
banks the wealthy of Constantinople reside in beautiful 
villas during the hot season of the year. One of the 
first palaces met with is that of Abdul Hamid, the present 
Sultan, built close to the European shores. A fine 
variation of hills and valleys with gleaming villas and 
well-kept parks succeeds each other up to Rumili Hissar, 
or Roumelian Fort, on the European, and Anatoli Hissar, 
or Anatolian fort, on the Asiatic shore. These mighty 
ruins are fortresses built by Mahomet II in 1452 on 
each side and at the narrowest part of the Bosphorus, in 
order to force contributions from all passing vessels. 
The castled walls and the battlements of these ruins are 
the most picturesque to be seen anywhere. The boat 
made many stops, and at the last one, we could see the 
mouth of the Black sea through an opening in the 

180 



Pile-Driving. 



mountains, where the Black sea disgorges into the Bos- 
phorus. The flow of waters at the narrow portions of 
the channel is very swift. Many a luckless vessel in 
times gone by, and even steamers in our day, are ir- 
resistibly swept upon the hidden rocks by the strong 
current and concomitant winds. No wonder ancient 
lore has woven around this narrow stretch of water 
many myths of dangers encountered by the first navi- 
gators. Through this passage Jason and the Argonauts 
beat their adventurous way to Colchis in quest of the 
golden fleece. Here Xerxes and Alexander crossed 
with their armies, bent on their schemes of conquest. 
As we returned Bujukdere, Bekoe, Kandili, and Skutari 
successively glided by at our left. 

Arrived again at the new bridge and having taken a 
Turkish dinner, we pushed through some of the narrow 
streets along the Golden Horn on the Stambul side. 
Here we encountered some of the old-time scenes of 
Turkish life: crowded streets, tumble-down sheds full 
of skulking dogs, open sewers in the middle of the lanes, 
swarthy Druses, Arabs and Turks, lounging around 
with their nargilehs or lazily at work. On turning 
round a corner we suddenly heard a great shout and 
beheld a crowd of ragged men, gathered around a 
scaffolding near the w r ater and each one holding in his 
hand the end of a rope dangling from a high pole. The 
ends of each rope were fastened to a thicker one running 
over a pulley attached to the pole about thirty feet high. 
The other end of this thick rope w r as tied to an iron 
weight lower down. This iron weight was now T resting 
on a pile which was to be driven into the ground. 

Suddenly there was a universal shout from the motley 
assembly, and each one began to pull at his rope, thus 
slowly raising up the iron weight between two guide 
posts. Louder the shouting, higher the weight rose, 
until the overseer gave a signal. Then with one final 

181 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

yell each ragged Turk let go his rope. The heavy 
weight jerked up the tangled maze of rope ends as it 
descended with a thump on the head of the pile. Tri- 
umphantly the overseer measured how far the pile had 
been driven in and found it — a half inch lower. The 
real situation dawned upon us, it was no May festival, 
it was a pile-driving bee. Those thirty-five men were 
having a grand huzza about every fifteen minutes, while 
they raised the weight for one more half-inch blow. 
This manner of pile-driving was so ridiculous to us, 
that I could not keep myself from shouting and huzza- 
ing with them, when after ten minutes they renewed 
their glorious achievement. Riddle: How long would 
it take these men to drive the piles needed for one of the 
Chicago skyscrapers ? Yet what is time to them ? Were 
they not earning enough for at least one pillau a day ? 

Finding that the Aiwan Serai, where the old city 
walls begin, was farther off than we had expected, we 
hired a boatman to row us up the Golden Horn. What 
a maze of old ramshackle boats and of ruinous huts 
along the banks! These riverbanks almost resemble 
those of Canton, which we had seen three months before. 
Half way up we passed an iron church. It is very 
tastefully put together and quite large, though not so 
large as that of Manila. From Aiwan Serai the old 
city walls run over hill and valley to the banks of the 
Marmora sea, seven miles distant. Istambul or ancient 
Constantinople, which this wall encloses, is built on a 
tongue of land formed by that sea and the Golden 
Horn. Two different walls, and for a portion of the 
distance, three different walls, were built parallel to 
each other in various periods of the history of Constan- 
tinople. The oldest and strongest was constructed by 
Theodosius in the sixth century, while the other two 
were added as outer defenses by the Moslems. A deep 
fosse ran along the outside, parts of which are now filled 

182 



Yedi Kule. 



up or used as vegetable or wheat patches. Trees grow 
on the old ramparts, sheep and goats clamber among the 
debris of the falling walls. In places there are wide 
breaches in the three walls, which give a view of the 
city inside. A walk of three hours brought us to the 
Golden Gate, all of marble, but walled up. 

Through this gate in 1452 the Mussulmen entered 
Constantinople, putting an end to the Greek empire. 
There is a superstitious belief that the Christians will 
again enter through this gate and end the Moslem do- 
minion. No doubt it is possible that the Christian 
nations will again open this gate; but how foolish it is 
to suppose that walling up this gate will keep them out. 
There are breaches in these walls large enough to let 
whole armies sweep through, and a moderate-sized can- 
non could beat down the old walls anywhere. 

Not far from this gate are the Yedi Kule, the seven 
towers, which adjoin the Marmora sea and form the 
end of the wall. They are part of a former fortress 
and palace of the Sultans. Now all is in ruins and only 
four of the seven towers remain. The Sultans were 
wont to confine their prisoners in these towers, and when 
it pleased them, also the ambassadors of Christian 
nations. The old keeper showed us the dark vault 
which the gracious Sultans used to reserve for the ac- 
commodation of the Christian ambassadors. From the 
top of the largest towers a fine view is had of the city 
and of the wide expanse of the Marmora sea. Through 
the kindness of two priests, that just then happened to 
join us, we were informed of the dummy railroad train 
just about to start for the city from the nearby station. 
It afforded us a chance to see Stambul also along the 
shores of Marmora and the Bosphorus, so that we had 
made a complete circuit of the city in one afternoon. 



183 



CHAPTER XX. 

In the Meshes of a Stamboui Dragoman — Seeing 
Mosques — The Ratals — From Kuleli to 

Adrianople — A Hearty Welcome with the 
Resurrectionists — Through the Bazaars — 
Across European Turkey to Salonica — Pan- 
demonium of Carriers — Shadowed by the Law 
— Stroll through New and Old Town — San 
Dimitri — Cutthroat Custom Rules — Off for 
Greece — Practical Hints. 

Our first place to visit next day was old St. Piedro 
on one of the side streets near our hotel. It contains a 
painting of the Blessed Virgin by St. Luke. All of the 
picture except the face is covered with embossed silver. 
Near by is the orphanage of St. George, where we found 
German sisters in charge. The persistence of guides 
in pressing their services upon strangers is nowhere 
greater than in Constantinople. As we crossed the 
bridge to Stambul a dragoman joined us uninvited, 
and followed us so persistently, that I purposely pre- 
tended to understand neither French, English, nor 
German, in which languages he accosted us. We 
spoke Bohemian, which I had learned from my com- 
panion. But he followed us for a long time even to the 
museum in the Serai, for he saw that we were shamming. 
His persistence ended only when at last he was engaged 
as guide by an old gentleman whom we had seen at our 
hotel. 

The most valuable and noteworthy objects in the 
museum of Stambul are the grand sarcophagus of 
Alexander the Great and the fine collection of gems 

185 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

recently found by Schliemann on the site of ancient 
Troy. The former is indeed a grand witness to the ad- 
vanced state of the sculptor's art three centuries before 
Christ. The four sides of the sarcophagus represent, in 
images that seem to live and move, some of the battle 
scenes in Alexander's life, while its cover represents 
some scenes of his private life. Especially vivid is the 
hunting scene. The whole monument is wrought out 
of one large piece of red marble. Schliemann's 
collection gives a vivid insight into the affluence of the 
ancient Trojans, for it is a remarkable collection of 
precious stones and exquisite gold and silver chasing. In 
the upper stories, mummies from the Babylonian and 
Egyptian tombs are shown. 

The tramways of Constantinople (and in a measure 
all over the Orient) are cumbersome and slow substitutes 
for walking, with an annoying system of paying fares. 
You must keep a slip of paper in your hand for the 
frequent inspection of a set of conductors, that board 
the car every few blocks to exchange places with each 
other. The car brought us to the Seraskian tower, 
the highest in the city, commanding an extensive 
view of Constantinople. Standing on its summit we 
were nearly blown off our feet by the violent north- wind, 
which was also quite cold. The Bosphorus, the Mar- 
mora sea, the Golden Horn, the aqueduct of Valens, 
the towers and buildings on the terraced hills of Galata 
and Pera, combine to form a magnificent scene. Here 
also one is impressed with the countless number of 
mosques in Constantinople. Each mosque of course 
has also its minaret to make it conspicuous. Immedi- 
ately around the Seraskian tower is a vast public square, 
on the western side of which adjoin the administration 
buildings. The entrance to the buildings is by a high 
portal, from which the Turkish government derives the 
the name of Sublime Porte. Descending and strolling 

186 



Hamals. 



again through the bazaars, we had the usual experience 
with the boothkeepers. Desirous of getting rid of the 
importunity of one of them, who wanted to press upon 
me a silk scarf, I offered him one-third of the price 
asked. I was badly fooled; he eagerly accepted the 
offer and set about trying to sell some more of his goods. 
One of the loungers who lie in wait to steer strangers to 
the booths of their friends, followed us around the 
bazaar and afterwards through miles of streets, though 
we kept telling him that we would purchase nothing 
and had no need of his services. 

On the stone approaches of a public building a 
group of Druse cobblers had established themselves 
with their few rude tools and pieces of leather. For the 
novelty of the thing, I allowed one of them to put new 
soles on my shoes. The work was done in twenty 
minutes and at small charge. 

On our return from Galata our attention was drawn 
to a group of nine men, who were manoeuvering around 
a huge wine butt. With its contents, it must have 
weighed three tons. Strong poles were slipped through 
nooses of the rope, which had been passed around the 
barrel. At a signal each of the hamals stooped to bring 
his shoulder under the ends of the poles, and at another 
signal, they rose, lifting up the butt with them. On 
they staggered up the hill, through the narrow streets, 
making a stop every forty or fifty steps. Hardly any 
wagons or carts are used for transportation in Constan- 
tinople, but nearly all is done by hamals or carriers. 
When we had paid our bills at the hotel, we had an 
example of what these hamals can do in the carrying 
line. One of them slung all our baggage on his shoul- 
ders, making use of his carrying strap, and on he walked 
across the Golden Horn to the railroad station in Stam- 
bul, a distance of over a mile. He stopped to readjust 
his burden only once on the entire way. 

187 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

We were destined to have some vexatious experience 
before leaving Constantinople. A bevy of Turkish 
officials were sitting around a large table, at the rail- 
road station, and demanded our passports before we 
should buy our ticket. We had intended to buy a 
through ticket to Salonica, with a stop-over at Adrian- 
ople in European Turkey. By detaining us until the 
last minute, they forced us to buy a ticket to Kuleli, 
thus mulcting us for almost double the real fare. The 
train was much crowded, so that we scarcely obtained 
seats, much less accommodation to sleep. There was a 
Jewish family who appropriated all the available room 
in our coupe. I soon left it therefore and improvised 
a bed in the passageway by means of a few valises and 
handbags. The country was uninteresting: a rolling 
prairie, sparsely settled. Farther on, darkness shut it out 
from view altogether. All the way to Kuleli junction, 
where we arrived next morning, and afterwards to Adri- 
anople, the general character of the country remained 
unchanged. The rivers and creeks were much swollen 
on account of rain, which still continued. There are no 
farmhouses, like those in other countries. The tillers 
of the soil live together in miserable villages, preferring 
to walk a few miles to their work even' day rather than 
be exposed alone to the depredations of roving bands. 
Very few are owners of the land they till : they are mere 
day-laborers for the rich landowners. Kuleli station is 
only a large wooden building, like a boarding house for 
railroaders in frontier countries. Here we took the 
train to Adrianople. The country hereabout must be 
fertile, but the soil seems to be put to little use. One 
is reminded of the western prairies of the United States. 
Here and there a wheatpatch was seen and a rude 
gathering of huts, a mere apology for a village. The 
railroad station is two miles from the city of Adrianople ; 
why the only railroad should pass two miles from 

1 88 



Adrianople. 



that important city of European Turkey only the per- 
verse mind of the Turks might possibly explain. When 
we arrived, the rain was pouring down in torrents, and 
so the only sensible thing was to stop at the tavern 
near the station. Accordingly we passed a few hours 
here as best we might in the cold and damp rooms, 
waiting for the rain to stop. 

The two-wheeled cart, which we took later on to the 
city, was certainly no improvement as to comfort. It 
swayed to and fro on the great flat boulders, that formed 
the pavement, throwing us from side to side without 
mercy. We landed at the Resurrectionist college, church 
and seminar} 7 . Both the lay brother, who received us, 
and the rector, Father Mosser, had lived for a time in 
Chicago. The rector had been a fellow student of Arch- 
bishop Feehan and was in correspondence with Bishop 
Muldoon. He prevailed upon us to take dinner with 
him, during which we learned some interesting facts about 
this part of the country 7 . Adrianople was founded by 
the Emperor Adrian. The Turks made it their capital 
in European Turkey some time before the taking of Con- 
stantinople. This region was the scene of some heroic 
battles, being located at the junction of the Suma, Arda, 
and Maritza rivers and in the midst of a fertile territory. 

Adrianople will no doubt yet play an important part 
in the history 7 of Europe, when once Turkey will be par- 
celed out among the Christian nations. The Russians 
are very influential in all that concerns politics and are 
steadily forging ahead. The "Young Turks" are be- 
coming more and more numerous, especially in the 
European provinces. They wish to do away with the 
antiquated forms and customs of Mohammedanism, 
and foment opposition to the tyranny of Abdul Hamid. 
The most disagreeable feature of life in Turkey, the 
father told us, is the mischief which eavesdroppers and 
spies are able to do. One must be on continual guard 

189 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

not to say anything that can be construed as a censure 
of the government, though its rulings be ever so unjust 
and tyrannical. The fathers here, however, are well 
treated and have quite an influence in Adrianople. A 
number of Turks are converted to the faith every year, 
but the conversions from the Orthodox Greek church to 
the united Catholic Greek are not frequent : the people 
cannot be easily made to understand the difference be- 
tween the Catholic and Orthodox churches. The papas 
are said to drive many of the people from the Greek 
church by their rapacity; most of these deserters join 
the Catholic church. The fathers hold the services ac- 
cording to the Greek rite, as most of the Catholics here 
are united Greeks. 

The church is moderately large and nicely decorated. 
Like in all Greek churches, there is the iconostasis in 
front, which divides the sanctuary from the rest of the 
church. When the priest says mass, a curtain is drawn 
across the opening in the middle of the inconostasis and 
hides him from the beginning of the offertory to the end 
of communion. As a natural consequence most of the 
people leave before the end of the mass. Communion 
is given in two species, and the communicants stand 
while receiving. There are no confessionals in the 
church; the Greeks make an open confession of their 
sins to the priest and to the congregation. It is done 
within hearing of both. Fasting among the Greeks is 
much more rigorous and universal than among the 
Roman Catholics. There is such a mixture of nationali- 
ties in this congregation, that Father Mosser often has 
occasion to use eight different languages in one day. 

After dinner Father Mosser went out with us in spite 
of the rain. From the top of an old fire tower we had a 
fine new of Andrianople. Most of the narrow and crook- 
ed streets are concealed by fine shade trees, which is 
certainly something unusual for a Turkish city. The 

190 



Through Macedonia. 



Maritza and its two forks, the Suma and Arda, join to 
make one large stream on the outskirts of the city. The 
Selim mosque of Adrianople was extolled as being 
equal in size and splendor to the Ahmed mosque in Con- 
stantinople. Inside, on each side of the mihrab, at the 
head of two high stairs, are two small pulpits, for reading 
the Koran. In the extensive bazaar and in the main 
streets, the merchants and the people looked trim and 
businesslike. But the sloppy weather soon tired us in 
our stroll and we were glad to get back to the station- 
tavern for an early sleep, as we were to take the train to 
Salonica at two o'clock in the morning. 

For once there was no trouble with our teskere on 
boarding the train and we were again rolling through the 
dark fog and rain over a hilly country. Some stalwart 
natives were in the car with us ; though belonging to the 
common people, they were polite and well behaved. 
Towards noon we had entered a more mountainous 
country. Glimpses of the Mediterranean showed 
through breaks in the hills. The seashore town of Deo- 
dadegatch glided into view a few miles to our left. As 
the train wound into the Maleka mountains a vast rock 
plateau loomed up to the right. The weather had worn 
the high cliffs into square blocks, that looked like the 
towers of a city. The sun had in the meanwhile driven 
off the rain clouds, giving additional charms to the wild 
scenery. Presently the train flitted through several 
tunnels and swung around into a wide and verdant valley, 
which stretched away in front like a vast road cut 
through a mountainous country. Far in the distance, 
at the farthest end of the valley, the light of the evening 
sun gleamed from the lake, around which the train 
emerged into a more open, though not much more 
settled country. At nine o'clock we arrived at the torch- 
lighted station Salonica, the ancient Thessalonica. 

Here we again fell into the robber hands of custom 

191 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

officials. Though we had not left Turkish territory, 
they scrutinized our teskere. Finding them in order, they 
began to scatter the contents of our satchels. They gave 
no heed to my loud and uncomplimentary remarks. 
They would probably have given some attention to 
them if they had been in a language known to them. 
The unlucky Baedeckers of my traveling companions 
were again yanked out in triumph and retained. They 
are probably the best-read books in Turkey, that is, if 
they really examine them as they claim. What a supreme 
stupidity of these Turks, to withhold such a well-known 
book under pretense of examining its contents for the ten- 
thousandth time! No arguments as to their harmless- 
ness would satisfy these blockheads or rather thieving 
scoundrels; and we put ourselves in serious danger of 
being arrested in trying to recover them by little less than 
force. We had to leave them in their hands with small 
hopes of getting them back in time for our departure 
from Salonica. 

And now under the flare of the torches began the 
pandemonium of hotel runners, hack-drivers and their 
hangers-on. With one fell swoop they pounced upon 
the few Europeans, who made their exit from the station, 
almost tearing them to pieces like a pack of wolves, in 
order to secure a prize for some hotel, or a customer 
for their carriage. After obtaining some kind of terms 
from one of the runners, we were quickly brought to 
hotel Colombo, where we had no reason for complaint 
in regard to prices or accommodation. Supper was 
quickly served and well enjoyed by us, for very little 
chance of refreshment one has on Turkish railroads. 
As the town seemed to be yet full of life, we afterwards 
concluded to take a stroll through the streets. We were 
much amused by the antics of a night-watchman. Pass- 
ing the gate of an iron picket fence, we stopped to look 
at the building behind it. While we stood there a watch- 

192 



Salonica. 



man across the street gave a signal by thumping his staff 
on the stone pavement. This was answered by another 
of his tribe farther on. Unsuspecting we continued our 
stroll to the market, w T here many torch-lights cast around 
a lurid glare. Unknown to us, however, we had been 
shadowed by the suspicious watchman and we were soon 
made aware of it, when we stood in a dark corner to 
watch the lively scene. For there was our watchman 
and four soldiers surrounding us at a distance of about 
ten steps and watching our every motion. We kept up 
the fun purposely for a while, lighting the cigars which we 
had bought, and pretending to examine the door of an 
old building where we stood. They were evidently at a 
complete loss what to think of our motions. Nor did 
they leave us until we had traversed quite a number of 
streets. 

The inhabitants seem to be a pleasure loving people, 
for the cafes and taverns were well filled and music re- 
sounded even' where. To our own hotel was annexed 
a beer-garden, (or rather a raki-garden), which was 
well patronized. In the background a large open stage 
was occupied by a band of Bohemian girl-musicians, 
such as are often found in southern Europe. At the end 
of each selection played, one of them went around with a 
plate, collecting voluntary contributions. Others would 
glide off the stage to lavish the charms of their conver- 
sation on those willing to receive them. Salonica seems 
quite cosmopolitan as regards nationality or language, 
for we heard several different languages spoken around 
us. 

The Catholic church is in the neighborhood of the 
hotel. It is a spacious structure, newly built. As it is 
the only church in Salonica for Catholics, the fathers 
are obliged to preach in half a dozen languages. After 
mass a German father invited us to breakfast. Later 
on, our guide of yesterday hunted us up to show us some 

193 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

of the sights of Salonica. The business houses along 
the quay look somewhat modern, probably because 
business is mostly in the hands of Greeks. On one 
end of the quay is an old fortress and beyond some very 
fine residence quarters. Between them and the Jewish 
quarters is the old church of St. George, serving as a 
mosque. The entire interior is covered with mosaics, 
but the Turks are letting the building go to decay. A 
still older church is that of San Dimitri. It dates back 
to the second century, being no doubt the oldest building 
originally used for a Catholic church in Europe. Of 
course the Turks have possession of it and are letting it 
fall to ruins. A hungry-looking hadshi opened the 
ancient portals in order to show us the building. Two 
rows of granite pillars, all battered and chipped, rise 
about halfway to support the blackened timbers of the 
roof. The upper part of the church has the appearance 
of being the open trusswork of a foundry roof, so much 
dirt has blackened the timbers ; yet the building seems 
to stand firm and solid. In the rear under a dark vault, 
the Moslem showed us a stone slab, full of dirt and can- 
dle drippings. He said it was the grave of San Dimitri. 
Saint Demetrius was a martyr of the second century. 
It is easily possible that his body once rested under that 
dirty stone in the ruinous vault. But what connection 
had Islamism with a man who died for Christ and the 
Catholic religion? What reason had this ragged and 
untidy Moslem to show us his grave as something to be 
venerated? None other than the hope of bakshish. 
They are willing at any time to take over a consignment 
of Christian saints and pretend to hold them in equal 
veneration with their fraudulent prophet, if they promise 
to bring a harvest of bakshish. We left the gaunt keeper 
of San Dimitri in a somewhat flurried condition, for he 
had imprudently aroused our displeasure by his fanatic 
bigotry. Why should this ragged Moslem forbid us to 

194 



Custom Troubles. 



to step on the dirty shreds of carpet ? Or why should he 
deem our feet more unworthy to tread on the pavement 
of a stolen Christian church, on which he and his raga- 
muffin brother Moslems passed over at will ? If he ex- 
pected a double bakshish, he should have dispensed 
with some of his nonsensical formalities. 

On calling at the custom house for our books we found 
it closed. It was Friday, and how could a giaour expect 
a Moslem to stir on Friday ? The police superintendent 
merely expressed his sorrow for his inability to procure 
them for us. We fared no better at the American con- 
sulate. The consul could not speak intelligible English 
and I had to do business with him in French. We were 
mulcted two dollars for a vise of our pass: the Turk 
fines you for coming into his country and fines you again 
for leaving it. The American consul in our case was 
the collector of this outrageous taxation. We had to 
leave a few more dollars in order to obtain the promise 
of sending the Baedeckers on to Patras, Greece, as soon 
as they could be recovered from the custom house. The 
advantages of being an American citizen were far from 
being self-evident to us in Salonica. 

Our runner brought us notice that a freighted steamer 
was to leave for Volo in Greece at five o'clock and that 
we might obtain passage in her. We packed up in a 
hurry and rushed to the quay. The steamer was lying 
out in the harbor among many other vessels. The custom 
house officials were on hand to examine our teskere: 
it seems the first thing these beggars would do in rescu- 
ing a man that fell into the water, would be to examine 
whether he had a right to fall off a Turkish quay without 
paying bakshish. The last Turk, who made an assault 
on our pocketbook was the boatman. Without much 
regret we shook the dust of the land of bakshish and 
teskere from our feet, and turned our faces toward the 
classic shores of Greece. 

195: 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

Practical Hints. Unless the saving of time is of very great 
importance, travelers from Palestine, who wish to see Constan- 
tinople and Greece, will do well to take one of the coasting steam- 
ers at Jaffa. The large passenger steamers generally make no 
stops except in Athens, Smyrna, and Constantinople. The 
smaller ones will pick up freight and passengers all along the 
coast of Asia Minor and at the islands of the Aegean sea. With- 
out any extra expense, and not a great consumption of time, the 
traveler will thus see many interesting places. Those that wish 
to have no annoyances at landing or during railroad travel in 
Turkey, should have their passes in order. No doubt a bakshish 
slipped into the hands of the officials would cover up a multitude 
of neglect in many places, perhaps everywhere. But the risk of 
being detained of course in one place or the other is ever present. 
Wherever any custom examinations are expected, a few silver 
coins will work wonders anywhere in Turkey; they always expect 
donations. Many travelers prefer to submit to the imposition, 
rather than be annoyed or detained. The morality of giving 
such bribes hardly comes into question ; for the laws which cause 
this kind of annoyance, especially in regard to passes, are most 
unreasonable and infringe on the natural rights of travelers. 
Besides, the practice of bribing officials in Turkey is almost legal 
and serenely tolerated. 



106 



CHAPTER XXI. 

On the Shores of Thessaly — Volo — Delaying 
a Steamer — A Lively Lieutenant — Past Clas- 
sic Scenes — The Piraeus and Athens — Ruins 
of the stathion and the acropolis — the par- 
THENON — Lively Gatherings — On the Elysian 
Fields — Scrambling about among Historic 
Ruins. 

The Roumania was a Belgian steamer and Captain 
Coppens had his share of troubles with the Turkish har- 
bor officials. There was a lively discussion about some 
formality between a bevy of these ne'er-do-well Turks 
and the officers of the ship as we boarded her. How- 
ever the captain had a summary way of dealing with the 
noisy blusterers: he hustled them off into their boats 
and started the machines agoing. The Turks had done 
us a good turn without knowing it; if they had not 
detained the steamer, we would have come too late. As 
the heavily laden Roumania swung slowly out of the 
harbor, the departing sun shone from the white build- 
ings and the hillsides of old Salonica. Later on, as 
the vessel held its course southward through the Aegean 
sea, the starry night held peaceful sway over the quiet 
waters and phantom shores of Thessaly to our left. Our 
captain was quite a jovial fellow and made us feel quite 
at home on the Roumania. As there were no cabins 
for passengers, he arranged sleeping places for us on the 
soft cushions of the dining-room seats. While sitting 
with him and a couple of the officers in the dining-room, 
he related some of his experiences on the Mediterranean, 
nor was he backward in offering us other good things 

197 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

to gladden the heart of a guest. He seemed well pleased 
to have some Americans and a priest aboard. 

Early next morning we found ourselves in the Gulf 
of Volo, heading for the town of Volo, the ancient Jolcas. 
Wooded mountains arose on the shores of the gulf and 
islands around, and peaceful villages nestled at the 
water's edge. Volo is a lively town, spread along the 
curving harbor. Since the railroad connects it with 
the interior of Thessaly, a new addition has grown up, 
which is larger than the old town. A half a year ago 
the passport nuisance was abolished in Greece, so that 
we had no difficulty in landing at any of its ports. On 
inquiry at the railroad station, we found the schedule 
of trains rather inconvenient, and so reluctantly gave 
up an excursion to the mountains of Thessaly. 

On a hill of the old town the open market presented 
a lively scene in the bright sunshine. On Saturday all 
kinds of petty merchants gather here, who spread their 
wares on rude tables under awnings or on the bare 
ground in the open air. The merchandise exposed for 
sale was mostlv such as is used in the households of the 
common people. Good natured crowds moved up and 
down between the rows of stands. Most of them were 
dressed in modern fashion, though there was a sprinkling 
of such as were dressed in a mongrel European and 
Turkish garb, or in ancient mountaineer style. The 
mountaineers wear kilts, something like the highlanders 
in Scotland, only the kilts are made of white muslin and 
voluminously plaited. These dresses are so short that 
they reach only up to the knees, and make the sturdy 
men look like ballet dancers. The legs downward are 
often bare, or covered with leather lacings, which run 
up from the sandals. 

Seeing some Greek taverns, we concluded to try a 
meal in one of them. A crowd of men were standing 
at the wine counter, much in the fashion of our American 

198 



Aegean Isles, 



bars. The rest of the room was taken up by rude tables, 
on which the customers were served with eatables from 
the open kitchen in one corner. The place resounded 
with jokes and laughter and animated conversation. 
As strangers we attracted curious glances. Those pres- 
ent readily entered into the fun of the situation, when 
I tried some of the Greek, which I had studied on board 
ship. The new Greek, which is in use now, differs con- 
siderably from the Greek of colleges, especially as re- 
gards the pronounciation of the letters. There are two 
or three participial constructions which are foreign to 
ancient Greek, yet it would not be so hard for any one 
who has not neglected his Greek at college altogether, 
to familiarize himself with the new language. At the end 
of our short stay in Greece, I could make myself tolerably 
well understood. The Greeks who gathered around us 
at our table, spoke in high praise of the United States, 
and in the same breath they gave expression to their 
hatred of the Turks. The wine and fare pleased us very 
well, though it was of the simplest and served up in the 
most unsophisticated manner. 

Proceeding along the beautiful quay to the new 
town, we heard that the steamer Paeneios was about to 
leave for the Piraeus of Athens. As we conjectured 
that we had seen the most interesting part of Volo and 
opportunities of departure would probably be scarce, 
we hastened to tranship our baggage to the Paeneios and 
to become one of her passengers. When we were as yet 
only a short distance from the shore, one of the steamers 
began to throw up clouds of black smoke and slowly 
move away. Our boatman gave us to understand that 
he feared it was the Paeneios. Frantically we shouted 
and waved our hats toward the departing steamer in 
order to induce it to wait for us. But no one seemed 
to notice any of our signs. It was just as well; on row- 
ing a little farther out into the harbor, we found that 

199 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

the Paeneios was still listlessly lying at anchor. There 
was plenty of time for us to embark. 

We had not purchased any tickets ashore and I in- 
quired from one of the passengers about the price of 
passage. I was much surprised, when the purser came 
around to collect about twice as much as some of the 
other passengers had paid for their passage. I stoutly 
refused to pay more than the rest. He began to storm 
and rage and called up a few of the crew. The captain 
of the vessel also came up to add to the fracas. Partly 
in French and partly in Greek he gave me to understand, 
that the steamer was kept waiting on our account. The 
situation was getting to be humorous. I told them they 
need not detain the steamer on my account: I would 
pay what the rest of the passengers had paid and no more. 
I was getting curious to find out what these storming 
Greeks would do, and how long they would delay their 
big steamer in order to get the paltry advantage over us. 
As if they could not easily force us to pay the bagatelle 
by retaining some of our baggage at Athens ! Three or 
four sailors grabbed hold of my arm several times in 
order to eject us by force. But somehow or other, a 
threatening look and a peremptory command not to 
touch me, though given in emphatic U. S. idiom, always 
made them desist. Finally the purser compromised the 
matter by saying, that the persons I had pointed out to 
him had gotten their tickets cheaper by mistake, and that 
they too would have to pay up the balance. As I did not 
want to make others suffer by prolonging a joke, I ac- 
quiesced and promised to pay about two-thirds of what 
he had asked. We had detained the steamer about 
twenty minutes, and gradually the passengers, who were 
all Greeks, had gathered on deck around us to see the 
issue. 

A bevy of Greek army officers seemed to have enjoyed 
the fun as much as ourselves, especially a young lieuten- 

200 



Shores of Attica. 



ant, by the name of Karras. He hovered around me 
during the entire voyage, asking a great many questions 
about the United States, and giving me much information 
about the interesting scenery through which we passed. 
The Greek of which I was capable was of course very 
defective, but we managed to make out each other's 
meaning. In the course of the afternoon we traversed 
the gulf of Volo, entered the narrow channel of the 
Negropont, or ancient sinus Euboeicus, headed round the 
northern end of the island of Euboea, and passed the 
Thermopylae. Towards evening we approached ancient 
Chalcis, at which harbor the vessel stopped during the 
greater part of the night. We were continually within 
sight of most picturesque mountains on both sides, and 
many a town passed in review, both on the mainland to 
the right as well as on the shores of the island of Euboea, 
the largest in the Aegean sea. 

Lieutenant Karras woke me early in the morning to 
call my attention to the city of Chalcis, nestled at the 
foot of the mountains in a spacious bay. The island of 
Euboea runs parallel to a great part of the eastern coast 
of Greece. Between it and the mainland are the Talanta 
and the Euripo channels. As we issued from the last 
named channel into the gulf of Petali, the group of the 
Cyclades islands came to view in the south. We were 
soon able to distinguish the islands of Nio, Tino, Sertho, 
Naxia, Andro, Zea, Syra and others of classical renown. 
On the mountain heights to our right gleamed the white 
pillars of ancient temples. Then we passed Laurion, 
on the lower shores of Attica, and soon the headlands of 
the Peloponnesus rose ahead of us. Our vessel veered 
to the northward into the gulf of Aegina, passing the 
island of Aegina and Salamis to the left. 

The shores of Attica to our right formed a gradual 
slope up to the mountains behind the city of Athens. 
About six miles inward the white temple of the Parthe- 

201 



O'er Oceans and Continents 

non on the Acroplis loomed up. Behind it lies Athens, 
and above it are seen the surrounding mountains of the 
Parnassus, the Pentelicus, and the Immittos. About 
six miles south of Athens is its harbor, the Piraeus, 
being at the north end of the gulf of Aegina. The 
Piraeus harbor is completely landlocked, excepting a 
narrow passage. Quite a number of ships were at 
anchor. A new town has sprung up around the harbor, 
and the whole has an air of enterprise and business, to 
which one is not accustomed after coming from Turkish 
countries. We had no trouble in establishing ourselves 
in one of the suburban trains that run to Athens. 
Among the most noted of the pleasure resorts along the 
road, is the Phalerae garden. Its drives, walks, and 
summer houses were swarming with the gay crowds of 
the pleasure-loving Athenians. In Athens we took 
lodgings at the hotel Kamphaxes, where we had fine 
accommodations at moderate prices. A guide, who had 
joined us at the railroad station, but whom we had re- 
fused to engage, waylaid us at the entrance of the hotel, 
waiting until we should come out. 

Though we told him several times, that we were out 
merely for a walk, he followed us up to the great square 
de la Constitution in front of the royal palaces and 
gardens. Athens is to a great extent a modern city ; the 
architecture of the buildings, even the smaller ones shows 
a remarkably fine taste and the streets have a neat and 
tidy appearance. One side of the place de la Consti- 
tution is faced by the royal palaces. In front of these is 
a terraced public garden, full of luxurious trees and 
shrubbery, divided by tastefully arranged walks. The 
other three sides are lined with large hotels and public 
buildings, which enclose the spacious square or piazza. 
Crowds of people taking their Sunday outing filled the 
square. Rows of tables were placed at some distance 
from the cafes and restaurants. Our self -constituted 

202 



Athens. 



guide urged us to sit down at one of these tables 
and order some refreshments, with which we not un- 
willingly complied. 

At a small distance to the rear of the palaces are the 
Olympic exposition grounds, where the Americans 
some years ago took away so many prizes in the Olympic 
games. The grounds border both banks of the classic 
Illyssus, which is merely a small, now mostly dry, creek, 
running through Athens, and near it are the remains of 
the ancient Stathion. It is a vast race-course in the 
form of a long quadrilateral with rounded corners, sur- 
rounded on all sides with many tiers of marble steps or 
seats. The Sakkas brothers have by their magnificence, 
restored about half the seats of this Stathion. On this 
arena the ancient Olympic games of Athens took place. 
At the upper end still stand some columns, which record 
the deeds of the champions of old. The grounds on this 
side of the Illyssus are laid out in beautiful parks, where 
among other monuments, stands also that of the poet 
Bvron, the great admirer of Greece. Behind and to the 
left of the Stathion the columns of the famous temple of 
Jupiter peer over the trees. A modern exposition hall 
stands on a hill overlooking the park and the Stathion. 

The open space around the exposition building was 
swarming with gay crowds, either sitting at tables or 
promenading about. Whole families were enjoying the 
open air and listening to the artistic performances of a 
band of musicians, paid by the city. The ladies appeared 
in very tasteful costumes and the gentlemen rivaled them 
in elegance of appearance. The features of the better 
class of Greeks are well proportioned. On the whole I 
have not seen such well-dressed and fine-looking people 
anywhere else. The manners of the Greeks also struck 
me as especially pleasing. On the way back to the 
hotel our guide induced us to witness a play in a theatre, 
which I did not find very interesting, probably because I 

203 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

could understand only the drift of the plot. Of course it 
must have been much more interesting to my companion, 
for he fell asleep in the first act. The hotel people showed 
themselves very attentive to our wants, and we were 
therefore well pleased with our first experience in Athens. 

Xext day, after celebrating mass in the Italian church, 
our objective point was the Acropolis and its ruins. 
Passing the place de la Constitution and thence a few 
more narrow streets, we reached the approaches of the 
rocky cliff called the Acropolis. An iron picket fence 
surrounds the approaches and a small fee is collected at 
the entrance. Passing the ruins at the foot of the hill, 
we proceeded at once up the rocky sides to the propylae, 
or colonnades, which line both sides of the passage up to 
the x\cropolis, and are part of the Sacred road, or Agia 
Ode. This road led from the temple of Eleusis, near 
Salamis, about seven miles away, to the doors of the 
Parthenon on the plateau of the Acropolis, and as the 
rocks fall off quite precipitously, a passage had to be cut 
through to the top. On one end of the propylae still 
stands the small temple of Victor}*, which has been re- 
stored from the heap of ruins to which it had been 
reduced by the ravages of centuries. 

Up this stony and steep passage, and between grace- 
ful colonnades of the propyla^a, the glorious pageant, 
formed according to the mysterious rites in the temple 
of Eleusis, annually wended its way from the Elysian 
plains. Thence the priests and priestesses in their 
chariots proceeded along the plateau to the great tem- 
ple of Athens, or the Parthenon, drawing after them 
the thronging multitudes to witness the conclusion of 
the sacred rites. Often, no doubt, the overflowing 
crowds could not be contained in the Parthenon and 
would fill the rocky plateau, the Erechthion to the left, 
and the old Pelasgian temple, the oldest of them all, 
aside of it. 

204 



The Parthenon, 



In our times of course no such gathering takes place. 
Bands of curious tourists climb this hill in order to 
admire the beauty and grandeur still lingering about 
the crumbling ruins. But let us try and obtain some 
kind of a picture of that celebrated hill as it looks to-day. 
Having reached the upper end of the propylaea, the 
whole of the rocky plateau lies before you. It seems 
about eight hundred feet long by five hundred wide, and 
an irregular quadrangle in shape. Old fortification 
walls run around the edges of the cliff, enclosing the 
whole. To the right of you, at about four hundred feet 
distance, rises the Parthenon, the most renowned temple- 
ruin of classic times; to the left are the much smaller 
ruins of the Erechthion and the Pelasgian temple. In 
some places the rocky plateau is strewn with fragments of 
carved rocks ; but the most valuable of these are gathered 
and preserved in the museum, which lies on the farther 
end and to the right of the plateau. 

After this general view of the Acropolis, let us pro- 
ceed to a more close inspection of the ruins. Most of 
the pillars of the propylaea are still standing, but the 
frieze above them is missing in several places. On one 
side of the propylaea, on a projecting cliff, stands the 
restored temple of Victory, while the four walls of an- 
other structure occupy the corresponding projection of 
the rock on the other side. Proceeding toward the left 
near the middle of the plateau we come to the Erechthion, 
a small temple, almost square and minus its roof. It 
is especially remarkable for the Caryatides, noble statues 
of virgins, bearing on their heads the roof of a portico 
at its rear end. Five of these pillars still carry the frieze, 
as they have done now for over two thousand years, and 
these exquisite sculptures have been the admiration of 
many generations of men. The front of the Erechthion, 
which is on the side opposite to the propylaea, is adorned 
by exquisitely graceful Corinthian pillars. Behind them 

205 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

is the main wall of the temple, half fallen to pieces. 
Adjoining the Erechthion are the remains of the Pelasgian 
temple, the oldest of them all. It is merely a heap of 
stones, above which some of the old walls project, so 
that its size can be well traced. It is worthy of notice 
because it antedates all the other ruins by seven or eight 
hundred years, for this temple was erected by the first 
settlers- of Greece, the Pelasgians. The walls that en- 
circle the plateau are remains of fortifications built in the 
Christian era, though in many places they rest on founda- 
tions laid by the ancient Greeks. 

The crowning glory of the Acropolis and of Athens, 
however, will always be the temple of the goddess 
Athenae, called the Parthenon. The ground on which 
it is built is somewhat higher than the rest of the plateau. 
The platform of solid marble forms an oblong twice as 
long as it is w T ide. On the four sides of this platform rise 
the vast fluted Corinthian pillars and, parallel to them, 
an inside wall. The wall and the pillars support the low 
pitched roof. Under the eaves upon the pillars rests 
the exquisitely carved frieze or cornice, which on the 
ends of the two side walls of the temple widens out to 
form the low triangle of the front gable. This front, 
which faces the propylaea, is the only side which is still 
entire. The sculptures above the frieze in the front tri- 
angle are the admiration of all lovers of art. The friezes 
all around the temple in the time of Alexander were 
covered with plates of beaten gold, and the dazzling rays 
of the sun were cast from this golden crown on the sum- 
mit of the Acropolis far and wide over the surrounding 
country. The whole structure is of the whitest Pentelican 
marble. In the middle of the temple stood the statue of 
Athenae. But only insignificant traces of the treas- 
ures of art in and outside of this temple remain. The 
ravages of time and the neglect and vandalism of the 
Turks have destroyed most of the works of art, which the 

206 



On the Acropolis. 



munificence of Cimon and Aristides and the art of 
Phidias and Ichthinos called into existence on this 
plateau. 

The Turks, about a century ago, made use of this 
temple as a storehouse for ammunitions of war. A 
spark falling into the powder magazine resulted in a 
fearful explosion which tore off the entire roof, except 
a little part of it on the south end, destroyed the side 
walls, and overthrew the pillars in the middle of the two 
longer sides. But the broken rows of pillars on each 
side and the still perfect rows in front and in the rear 
even now give the exquisite outlines of the temple as it 
stood in the zenith of Greek glory. Each one of these 
vast fluted Corinthian columns, aspiring gracefully to 
the entablature, is a thing of beauty forever to the student 
of art. The secret of the beautiful proportions of this 
temple lies in its outlines, which are so arranged as to 
correct the faults of the perspective, inherent to the 
human vision. From whatever side or position the be- 
holder views the structure it will always give the impres- 
sion of perfect proportion. Thus it happens that these 
pillars, which look so straight and seem to stand 
perfectly perpendicular, are not really quite straight and 
are not standing perfectly perpendicular. They were so 
constructed and placed as to correct the diminution 
which the upper parts necessarily suffer, in the perspec- 
tive of the beholder as he stands on the ground. What 
modern ingenuity has invented in order to correct the 
aberration of rays in photographic lenses, the Greek 
architects have done for the beholder of this temple in 
adapting its outlines to the perspective of the beholder. 

But let us pass again through the propylaea and 
descend on the pathway to the left. We come to the 
immense arches of an extensive wall built of dark stone ; 
it is the theatre of Herod, and is built at the foot of the 
hill. More ruins of Roman times are spread about in 

207 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

this neighborhood. On the farther end is the theatre 
of Dionysius or Bacchus, leaning up against the steep 
rocks of the hill. The proscenium and tiers upon tiers 
of marble seats rising in a semicircle and exquisitely 
carved, are still standing after two thousand years of 
exposure. 

We obtained a plentiful meal in a nearby tavern at 
ridiculously low prices, and then continued our excursion 
and sight-seeing. Next to the Parthenon the great 
temple of Jupiter near the Stathion is the most renowned 
ruin of Athens. The Roman emperor Adrian has left 
many proofs of his munificence in all parts of Greece, 
especially in Athens, and this temple is one of the most 
noteworthy. At the entrance to the temple-grounds is 
Adrian's arch. It rivals in size and beauty the arches of 
Titus and Constantine in Rome. On the open grounds 
behind it are seen the great pillars of the temple of 
Jupiter. The roof of this temple was carried by fifty- 
six Corinthian pillars of vast proportions. Only a few 
of these pillars are still standing, while some are lying 
in fragments on the ground in the same position as they 
fell. The sections are six feet in diameter, about seven 
feet long, of Pentelican marble, and were so closely 
joined to each other that no seams are visible in the 
pillars that have not fallen. The platform, which 
formed the floor of the temple, is yet entire, and on one 
end of this platform a group of these pillars rise to a 
height of sixty-five feet. The temple of Jupiter was 
begun in the year 467 before Christ and finished by 
Adrian in the year of our Lord 147, a building period of 
614 years. 

During the rest of the afternoon we visited the tower 
of the winds, one of the oldest monuments of Athens, 
the ruins of the Roman forum, and the cemetery on the 
Elysian or Holy Road. In this cemetery, gravestones 
and monumental statues that were put up in the time of 

208 



The Museum. 



Pericles and Themistocles, can yet be seen. Later on 
we paid our visit to the national museum. It contains 
any amount of statues from ancient times in a state of 
greater or less preservation. The most notable are the 
statue of Minerva from the chisel of Phidias, the Lao- 
coon group, and the god Apollo. Many other relics of 
ancient times, too numerous to describe, are preserved 
in the spacious buildings. As the rain interfered with 
farther movements, we preferred to spend the rest of the 
day at our hotel. 



209 



CHAPTER XXII. 

Through the Straits of Corinth — Amid the 
Cloud-swept Ruins of Acro-Corinth — Per- 
ennial Founts — The Vine-clad Hills and 
Shores of Achaia — Patras and Olympia of 
Old — Vast Fields of Olympian Ruins — On 
the Ionian Sea — Corfu and the Coasts of 
Epirus — Across the Adriatic — Practical 
Hints — Important Appendix. 

Next day we had set apart for a visit to the ruins of 
Eleusis, about seven miles distant, and situated on the 
bay of Lepsina, opposite the island of Salamis. This 
excursion includes at the same time a drive over the 
Agia Ode, (Holy Road) through the greater part of the 
city, and through the beautiful plains that stretch away 
to the bay of Salamis and to the mountains. The Holy 
Road crosses over the plains southwest of the city and 
enters the defiles of the mountain-spurs near the shores 
of the bay of Lepsina. Having passed the hills, it winds 
in a wide sweep around a bend of the shore to the ruins 
of Eleusis. Extensive excavations have been made on 
the site of the ancient temples, where the Eleusinian 
mysteries were performed. The ruins lie to the right 
of the road at the foot of a hill on which stands a small 
Greek chapel. About an acre of ground is covered with 
fragments of statues, pillars, and carved stones, etc., 
that once were part of the many buildings, now fallen 
to ruins. The excavators have laid bare the foundations 
of most of the temples, so that they can be pretty well 
traced. 

The oldest relic is the Pelasgian temple of Pluto, 

211 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

which was only a small enclosure in the front end of the 
deep cave of Pluto in the side of the hill. Around this 
old Pelasgian temple many additions had been made 
in the course of centuries. The latest of them is the 
temple of Adrian. Part of the colonnade, which led 
from the Pelasgian temple to the place where the Eleu- 
sinian mysteries were celebrated, is still to be seen. 
Rows of marble seats, running partly up the hill in a 
semicircle, mark the mysterious quarters of this temple- 
complex, where none but the initiated were ever allowed 
to set foot, and where in later times the orgies of Dio- 
nysius or Bacchus took place. At the farther end of 
the ruins, old Roman fortifications rise out of the waters. 
Beyond the summit of the hill is an ancient temple, still 
under roof, though 2,000 years old. It is used as a mu- 
seum, where a large collection of broken statues and 
fragments from the neighboring ruins are collected. 
The best preserved relics are a Venus, a Bacchus, and 
a Ceres. From the top of the hill the eye scans the 
Eleusinian fields. 

The remainder of the afternoon we spent in visiting 
once more the Acropolis and its immediate surroundings. 
Adjoining the hill of the Acropolis, opposite to the 
propylaea, is the hill of the Areopagus. Its rocky sum- 
mit is excavated in many places, showing the remains 
of the public buildings. On the declivities of the Areop- 
agus, farthest from the propylaea, lie many acres of 
ruins where the streets which portioned off the squares 
are still traceable. On the other side of a deep ravine 
is the hill of the Nymphs. The ruins of a large temple 
and dwellings adjoining it are quite extensive. Here 
the priestesses of Minerva resided in olden times. The 
remains of the great monument of Philopapos crown 
the top of another hill, a quarter of a mile to the left. 
The temple of Theseus is not far from the Ode Agia, 
on the southern outskirts of Athens. It is the only one 

212 




THE ACROPOLIS 




RUINS OF OLYMPIA 



The Areopagus, 



besides the one just mentioned which is yet under roof 
and entire. It is in the same style as the Parthenon on 
the Acropolis, though much smaller and without the 
fine proportions and exquisite ornaments peculiar to 
the Parthenon. The Corinthian pillars surrounding 
it are still standing. 

In order to make the entire circuit of the Acropolis, 
we returned by way of the Areopagus to the west side 
of the Acropolis hill, opposite to the theatre of Herod 
mentioned above. This whole western side of the hill 
is occupied by old fortification walls. ' They overhang 
the cliffs above and abut on the sides. Soon we were 
entangled in a maze of narrow passages between old 
ruins and small huts, where the poorest Athenians have 
their abode. The passages were mere paths running 
up and down the cliffs halfway up the Acropolis. The 
lights of the city began to gleam below us and we were 
getting somewhat anxious. We would not have found 
our way out of this labyrinth, if one of the urchins had 
not come to our aid and led us through steep ravines 
and through the old walls of ruinous huts to the street 
below. We were glad to be again in the well lighted 
portion of the city. For a diversion we went for an 
hour or two to the hippodrome or circus, for which the 
Athenians have an extra building. The performances 
were of an inferior kind, except those of one of the riders, 
who atoned for the rest of the company and the stale 
jokes of the clowns. On the whole, however, we 
regretted the loss of an hour's sleep, which we might 
have enjoyed instead of sitting on the hard benches of 
the hippodrome. 

Having missed the morning train for Corinth, we 
were obliged to wait till noon. While we were waiting 
for our breakfast at the restaurant, funereal music 
resounded through the drizzling morning air. A regi- 
ment of soldiers, who seemed rather of small stature and 

213 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

who kept rank and step but indifferently, presently 
marched through the sloppy street. Behind them fol- 
lowed a procession of black-robed papas and other 
mourners, chanting a mournful song. The hearse was 
exquisitely decorated with a profusion of flowers. It 
was the funeral of a Greek papa or priest. Next after 
the hearse came about two hundred of the cavalry and 
many civilians in carriages. 

Our bill at the hotel was moderate. We were well 
pleased with Athens and its inhabitants. The train to 
Corinth was crowded, but we managed to get a seat near 
the window, and so were enabled to enjoy the beautiful 
scenery along the road. After passing Eleusis and the 
island of Salamis,*the railroad skirts the gulf of Aegina 
up to the narrow isthmus of Corinth. The sun had in 
the meanwhile broken through the rain clouds, and shone 
brightly over the limpid waters to our left and the varied 
mountain scenery to our right. Like a snake the train 
wound along the rocky cliffs of the abrupt seashore, 
high above the blue expanse of the sea and the wave- 
worn, rocky beach. Our train crossed the deep canal, 
which now connects the waters of the Corinthian gulf 
on the west with that of the Gulf of Aegina on the east. 
Though the canal is only seven miles long, it is a 
remarkable engineering feat on account of the great 
depth to which it had to be cut into the solid rock. As 
we passed over its iron bridge, it seemed only a small 
creek in a deep abyss. Beyond lies New Corinth, in 
the province of Morea, the ancient Peloponnesus. 

The present town of Corinth is built about five miles 
from the old Corinth and nearer to the water. Old Cor- 
inth was situated at the foot of a vast rocky cliff, some 
four miles from the shore. Only a small gathering of 
miserable huts, built upon hills of ruins, mark the site of 
the ancient city. As it was yet early in the afternoon 
when we left the train, we at once hired one of the clumsy 

214 



ACRO-CORINTH, 



country stages to bring us there. Very little of the ruins 
are visible, for they lie buried twenty or thirty feet below 
hills of debris and accumulated soil. Fields of grain and 
pastures now meet the eye, where the city once stood. 
Great excavations have been made and were then in 
progress on the outskirts of the village. Fortunately the 
foreman, who was directing the excavations, spoke Eng- 
lish and kindly volunteered some information regarding 
the ruins recently uncovered. 

They were the remains of ancient temples, that had 
been built over and around the perennial fountains, so 
often mentioned in the classics. The greater part of a 
large hill had been removed. Twenty feet below the sur- 
face, the foundations of temples, the intricate systems of 
conduits for distributing the waters of the fountains 
through the large complex of buildings and, under the 
walls of an old temple of the time of Pausanias, the Per- 
ennial fountains had lately been discovered. Four of 
the seven bronze lionheads, through which the waters 
gushed forth, still protruded from the old walls. Some 
distance from these excavations the rock-hewn caves 
over the fountain of Glaukus had also been brought to 
the light of day. The only monument of antiquity which 
had been visible before any excavations were made, were 
the remains of a Doric temple. It must have been stood 
on a considerable eminence, which explains the fact that 
it was not buried beneath the soil like the rest of the city. 
All that remained of it are three Doric pillars standing on 
one corner of the temple platform. They are at least 
three thousand years old. The dark granite, of which 
they are hewn, is crumbling away from age and the tem- 
ple floor is covered for the most part by a drift of sand. 

The great mount to the south of Corinth is called the 
Aero-Corinth. Its rocky cliffs, rising perpendicularly 
two thousand feet above the plain, are crowned by for- 
tification walls, perhaps the most picturesque in the 

2I 5 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

world. This stronghold dates from the Venetian occu- 
pation in the twelfth century. I wished to ascend to the 
summit, though the foreman of the excavations party 
thought that I would not be able to find the way alone, 
and that I would not have time before nightfall to accom- 
plish the journey. Nevertheless I started out to climb 
the intervening hills toward a ridge, that seemed to afford 
a gradual ascent half way up the east side of the moun- 
tain. Having reached the place where the ridge meets 
the sides of the Aero-Corinth, progress seemed at an end, 
for I stood before an almost perpendicular ascent of 
broken rocks, and the fortification walls were yet at a 
great distance above us. Only by using hands and feet 
and reaching out for overhanging roots and projections, I 
wound gradually higher and higher around the south side 
of the mountain. Nearly exhausted I reached the pla- 
teau inside of the walls. The fortification walls enclose 
about a half square mile of uneven ground. Near the 
center, on an eminence, were the ruins of old temples, 
and on the summit was a wooden platform, which 
must be of recent construction, probably for scientific 
observations. From this platform there is a magnificent 
view of the surrounding country. The gulf of Corinth 
seemed like a slender arm of water, stretching inward 
from the Adriatic as if to caress the smiling landscape. 
The sun was casting its mellow evening rays over the hills 
and mountains on both sides and behind the Acro- 
Corinth. The fort has long since been deserted and in 
many places the walls are falling to pieces. On the side 
facing old Corinth the walls are particularly strong. 
Tar had been recently smeared on the edges of the tur- 
rets and walls and then set afire. It must have been a 
fine spectacle from below to see the edges of this great 
cliff encircled by a flaming crown in the darkness of the 
night. 

I was fortunate in finding a path leading through the 

216 



Achaian Scenes. 



gate in front and down the declivity outside, for it would 
have been impossible to climb down the same way which 
I had used in coming up. I found my traveling com- 
panion sitting with a few Greek villagers and a German, 
drinking wine at the tavern and having a good time. 
Dusk had settled over the land, when we again took our 
places in the conveyance. I was so fagged out by the 
steep climbing, that I fell asleep on the way. There was 
no life in new Corinth. The streets were not even 
lighted, and there was absolutely no business except in 
one tavern. What else was there to do, than to betake 
ourselves to rest at an early hour? 

Early next morning we boarded a train for Patras. 
The train was crowded. It seems the Greeks like to 
travel. This also gave me a better chance to make use 
of the Greek which I had picked up with the help of a 
grammar in the last two weeks. The common people 
easily overlooked my mistakes and difficulties in trying 
to make myself understood. The conductor of the pre- 
vious day was also on this train ; he was a jovial blade, 
and often appeared at our window to exchange a few 
words with us. The train follows the shores of the 
Corinthian gulf, affording beautiful views of blue water 
on the right and mountain scenery to the left. The 
slopes between the gulf and the mountains form almost 
one continued vineyard from Corinth to Patras. At one 
place the mountains approach close to the shore, and a 
great headland impends over the railroad track, as if 
ready to fall into the sea. Several thriving towns are 
lined along the road and seashore, half concealed by 
trees and gardens. We found the Greeks social and 
friendly throughout, not overbearing, contented and 
happy, though most of them must be poor. 

Across the bay of Corinth, which is only a few miles 
wide, picturesque chains of mountains rise and at last 
taper out into a headland opposite Patras. We arrived at 

217 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

Patras at about three o'clock and took our headquarters 
at Hotel Anglia. Patras is a large town full of business 
and pleasure, both of which seem natural in such a fine 
port and in the midst of so luxurious and fertile a coun- 
try. The tasteful buildings, the clean streets, the public 
squares and parks, cannot but make a favorable impres- 
sion on the visitor. The variation of wooded hills and 
verdant valleys makes its surroundings a veritable para- 
dise. Our first care on arriving was to inquire at the 
custom house for the unlucky Baedeckers, which we had 
requested the rapacious officials of Salonica to send on 
to this town. * They were not there. They arrived sev- 
eral weeks later and the custom officials at Patras were 
kind enough to send them on to Rome at their own cost. 
Our cabman took us on to the Greek church of St. An- 
drew. It is built in the Greek or Byzantine style and 
very finely decorated inside. An old gray-bearded papa 
showed us the tomb of St. Andrew in the right aisle of 
the church. The lower part is of polished marble, inlaid 
with precious stones. Above it rests a canopy on four 
pillars. The tomb does not contain the body of St. 
Andrew, but after we had gained the confidence of the 
priest, the old man brought a gold and silver reliquary, 
which he said contains the thumb of the apostle. 

Not far from this church is the public park over- 
looking the seashore. In the centre of this park, under 
a glass house, is preserved the mosaic floor of an old 
temple, which formerly stood there. It is one of the most 
artistic and largest floor-mosaics of ancient times in ex- 
istence. Nobody that visits Patras misses an excursion 
to San Gerokomio, a very old Greek church and convent, 
a few miles south of the town. From this eminence the 
white buildings of Patras, encircled by the vine-clad hills 
and the blue sea beyond, formed a charming prospect 
in the mellow evening sunshine. As our carriage neared 
the convent it passed through idyllic gardens. Delight- 

218 



Patras. 



ful shady bowers shield from the sun, and the fragrance 
of flowers and fruit fills the air. Near the entrance to 
the convent stood a modest wine tavern, where the rustic 
benches invite to rest and refreshment beneath the shade 
trees. The church and convent offer nothing particu- 
larly remarkable, except their age. Services were going 
on in the chapel, at which a score of finely dressed people 
assisted, standing in groups on the stone pavement. The 
services consisted of the usual drawling and interminable 
chant of Greek worship, while every now and then one 
of the clerics went around incensing his colleagues. 

We had seen and heard the same thing often enough 
in Jerusalem, so we preferred to sit under the shade of 
the trees to listen to a few tunes of a wandering musician, 
who was playing on his harpsicord in front of the tavern. 
When we again entered the town after sunset, the streets 
were literally alive with w r ell dressed, happy people 
chatting and laughing, while taking their evening prome- 
nade. The well to do were tastefully dressed, and this 
is especially true of ladies. There seemed to be quite a 
spirit of companionship and fraternity between the 
different classes. In one of the by-streets we came upon 
the ruins of an old Roman theatre, built of brick. The 
proscenium and stage and the great semicircle of terraced 
seats are still in good preservation. On the hill behind 
the city could also be seen the frowning walls of an old 
Venetian fort. The ancient monuments here and every- 
where in Greece are strictly guarded ; as well against the 
ravages of time, as against the vandalism of visitors. 
Otherwise there would soon be no relics left. 

The Catholic church in Patras is in charge of an old 
Italian priest. It is in the business part of the city. He 
very urgently invited me to return and hold services on 
Sunday; but after returning from Olympia, I found 
that our boat would leave on Saturday. In the evening 
we attended an Italian opera in one of the gardens. It 

219 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

— 

was all about an eccentric rich man, who was beguiled 
by a lot of monks (Latin monks of course) to buy some 
statues of women, to help their monastery out of financial 
difficulties. My traveling companion was soundly 
asleep before the play was half over, for he was partly 
deaf, and thus could not hear a word of the play or the 
fine singing. But when to his continual nodding he 
added a nasal solo crescendo pocc'a pocco, the surround- 
ing Greek beauties began to cast around dimpled smiles 
to find the extra basso of the occasion. He of course 
remained unconscious both of their bewitching smiles 
and their youthful giggling. I was loath to wake him, 
for he was tired, and awakened would not be able to enjoy 
the fine points of the situation, one way or the other. 
It was worth something to me to be able to enjoy two 
comic operas at the same time. I merely nudged him 
once in a while to prevent fortissimos. Before the play 
was over I too had hankerings after the arms of Mor- 
pheus, whose soft embraces we went to enjoy at about 
eleven o'clock, though the streets were yet full of life. 

Early next morning the train was taking us along the 
coast toward Olympia in the south of the Peloponnesus. 
Once more we were in crowded cars, passed the fruitful 
vineyards, conversed with pleasant people, and met the 
smiles of the same jovial conductor at the car window. 
At one of the stations my companion had gotten off to 
purchase some small article, and as his deafness pre- 
vented him from hearing the signal, he was left behind. 
I did not notice his absence, until one of the passengers 
reminded me of it. Hastily I informed our friend the 
conductor, though we were already a half mile from the 
station. He stood by us in our time of need and gave 
the signal to stop the train. In the meanwhile my friend 
had started to run after the train, but had given it up, 
when I jumped out to look for him, After some delay 
he was landed safely and our train sped onward. I don't 

220 



Olympia. 



expect to meet so good natured a conductor in the near 
future, especially not among the train czars of the United 
States. I suspect even our Greek conductor could not be 
so easily induced to delay a train so long, for any other 
than Americans. We arrived at Olympia about noon- 
time. It is situated in a verdant valley, watered by 
the small river Alpheios and surrounded by charming 
mountain scenery. The station is some distance from 
the excavations and the town consists only of a few 
houses, two rival hotels, and a museum near the great 
excavations. 

After a scant dinner, we sallied forth to the ruins and 
their surroundings. The sharp cones of a wooded hill 
rose behind our hotel across the Erymanthos creek, 
which empties into the Alpheios near the ruins. It is the 
Kronion, commanding a fine view of the Olympian 
fields spread below. We tried to gain its summit, which 
is of considerable height, but after a futile attempt desist- 
ed on account of the thick growth of underwood. From 
its southern base extend the great excavations a quarter 
of a mile square. Nearly fifteen feet of rubbish and soil 
had covered this space. But the patient labor of the 
excavators had now disclosed the vast ruins to the light 
of day. Here lay the remains of temples, playhouses, 
baths, arenas, treasure vaults, that once had attracted 
the champions of the world, and the countless thousands 
of spectators even from distant Rome. The walls are 
now heaps of stones, the pillars are lying in confusion on 
the ground or over each other, the ornaments and carv- 
ings of the buildings are scattered in fragments between 
the huge blocks of stone foundations. The great temple 
of Jupiter is near the centre. Its huge platform foun- 
dation is still intact and some of the Doric pillars are still 
standing. On one side are the remains of the arenas 
and the playgrounds, surrounded on all sides by the 
ruins of the apartments for the participants in the games. 

221 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

On the other sides are the intricate mazes of the Roman 
thermae or hot baths, the foundations exposed, the pillars 
broken off or toppled over, the underground conduits 
laid bare. 

All the glory of the Olympian games has departed. 
Over these grounds, how many thousands were not 
wont to throng in ancient times at the call of the envoys. 
Every four years they were sent out to the four quarters 
of the compass to invite the Greek and the Barbarian to 
take part in or to witness the deeds of far-famed men! 
How many a heart exulted in victory on that stathion, in 
the throwing of the disk, in wrestling or running, in poetry 
or song! How many also departed vanquished and sick 
at heart, broken in despair, themselves and their friends 
ruined by the lost wagers! There shouts of applause 
uprose and fired the contending champion to renewed 
exertion; there also the sharp tongue hissed words of 
scorn and derision at some defeat. Fiercely the storms 
of envy and ambition often raged in the hearts of the 
champions, rousing up kindred storms in the hearts of 
the spectators, that vented itself into shouts of rage 
or exultation at defeat or victory. All is silent now, 
the shouts are hushed as in a grave, the games died out, 
the crowds are dispersed ages ago. Nothing except the 
hesitating step of the curious tourist resounds on the 
place, his vacant stare and wondering remark, mingled 
with the gasconading swagger of the guide, have taken 
the place of all the glory of the Olympiads. 

A suspicious watchman follows you around from afar, 
lest you are ridiculous enough to abscond a piece of 
crumbling marble as memento. No doubt the watchman 
was found to be necessary in order to preserve the heaps 
of ruin, for it is remarkable, what absurd things travelers 
will often burden themselves with in order to show to 
their friends that they have visited places of note. We 
left the grounds on the road which leads up to the 

222 



At Corfu, 



museum on the hill. A bridge here leads over the Eryman- 
thos. While we crossed over the bridge, a boy, aided by 
a noisy dog, drove a straggling herd of goats along the 
creek bottom; this is the only crowd of living beings 
that still hover around Olympia now. The museum is 
filled with carvings found on the excavated grounds. 
The most notable piece is the statue of Hermes and child, 
by Praxiteles, and the great Nike or goddess of victory, 
which stood on the apex of the- large temple of Olympia. 
Along the walls were the great groups of marble figures 
that adorned the triangular friezes of the temple. They 
represent the battles of the Centaurs with the Lapidae, 
and were restored from the fragments of the statuary 
found in the excavations. The figures are of gigantic 
size, and the two groups are each over one hundred feet 
long. The parts missing are filled in with plaster of 
Paris casts, so that the groups are quite complete. 
Before we went to rest, we sat for a while in the balmy 
evening air, on the rude benches of a primitive wine- 
tavern, talking to one of the natives. 

The next morning we took the train back to Patras, 
and after vainly inquiring for our strayed Baedeckers, we 
leisurely established ourselves on board a steamer for 
Corfu and Brindisi. But the steamer tarried until ten 
o'clock at night. The next day the sun rose in splendor 
over the rippling waters. The verdant shores of Greece 
glided by to our right, while the island of Zakynthos, 
Cephalonia, and St. Maurice stood guard on the left. 
At about eight o'clock Corfu, or Corcyra, as the Greeks 
call it, hove in sight, and at ten we anchored in the har- 
bor immediately in front of the town of Corfu. The city 
presents a pleasant view, with its palaces on the high 
promontory, the tall houses along the quay, and the 
mountains behind. As it was Pentecost day, we felt 
obliged to hear mass if possible. Services were just 
going on at the modest cathedral. A scant congregation 

223 



O'er Oceans and Continents. 

was present standing in groups on the stone pavement 
of the church. It seemed to me that some of the ladies 
were more anxious to show off their fine dresses, and 
meet acquaintances, than to follow the services. The 
singing and music were excellent and appropriate to the 
holy sacrifice. Let no American complain of too fre- 
quent collections in their churches, for here we had no 
less than five different collections taken up during mass. 
Perhaps that was necessary, for the contribution flowed 
but scantily in every one of them. After mass we were 
shown a miraculous statue of the Blessed Virgin in one 
of the side chapels. 

Not much of Sunday quiet reigned on the great square 
and in the crowded streets. Most of the stores were wide 
open. The houses and the vessels in the harbor were 
bedecked with numerous flags in honor of Prince Con- 
stantine of Greece, whose birthday it was to-day. After 
partaking of a delicious Greek dinner, we passed the rest 
of our time in strolling through different parts of the town. 
It struck me as peculiar that there should be so many 
stories to the houses. The south part of the town is built 
on a high promontory. A large portion of this is occu- 
pied by the old royal palaces and its surrounding parks 
and gardens. Here the king sometimes spends the 
summer months. The highest top of the promontory 
is crowned with fortifications built by the Italians, the 
former lords of the island. Through ancient barracks, 
still occupied by soldiers and kept in good repair, we 
climbed up the steep hill to the weather observatory. 
An old tower affords a charming view of land and sea. 
Eastward across the sea, on the mainland of Epirus, the 
convent of St. Salvator lay perched on top of a high 
mountain, and northward of it the Albanian mountains 
lined the shore. Beneath us the island of Corfu curved 
away from the mainland westward into the sea, full of 
picturesque scenery. South of us the open Adriatic 

224 



At Corfu. 



gleamed through the studding island mountains. The 
old station keeper was highly gratified by a small fee for 
the use of his telescope. We returned on the romantic 
path to the town, and again boarded the Servia in order 
to continue our voyage to Brindisi and Naples. 

Practical Hints. For those who are acquainted somewhat 
with the ancient classics, Greece is one of the most interesting 
countries. They will do well to set apart for it a corresponding 
portion of the time at disposal for their travels. In a short time 
the knowledge of ancient Greek will enable them to become some- 
what familiar with the present language, that is, if they have not 
shirked the study of Greek at college, and take some pleasure in 
having a chance to make the only practical use of it during their 
lives. The relics of ancient times are found all over. Greece will 
become intensely interesting, if the history connected with it is a 
little freshened up. 



225 



AUTHOR'S ANNOUNCEMENT. 

"O'er Oceans" is to appear in four different series, 
independent of each other, yet forming a continuous 
narrative of a journey through both hemispheres, as 
follows : 

First Series : Chicago — San Francisco — Hawaii- 
ans — Japan — China — Manila. 

Second Series : Singapore — Burmah — India — 
The Himalayas — Goa — Bombay — Cairo — Jaffa. 

Third Series : Jerusalem — Palestine in Bedouin 
Garb — Syria and Islands of the Mediterranean — 
Smyrna — Constantinople — Athens — Corfu. 

Fourth Series: Naples — Rome — Vienna — Munich 

— Oberammergau — Switzerland — The Rhine ; Paris 

— London — New York — Chicago, — supplemented by 
incidents of a tour of all the European countries, the 
north of Africa, and Canada. 

On account of other much more important duties, 

the author can give but a very limited amount of time to 

the writing and publication of " O'er Oceans," and still 

less to other matters connected with their distribution. 

But their reception by the public has been very gratifying. 

Nevertheless, he wishes it to be especially understood, 

that the chief object of these books is to bring to the 

notice of the English-speaking world one of the most 

remarkable books in any language, the Spanish Ciudad 

de Dios, of which he has undertaken the first English 

translation. 

226 



Author's Announcement. 



Reader, if you have been generous and intelligent 
enough to find some good points in this book of travel, 
in which I have sought to describe in a pleasing way 
the trivial incidences of a mere jaunt around this insig- 
nificant earth, what may you not expect in an intellectual 
journey through Ciudad de Dios, where the hidden 
beauty of the universe is pictured in a manner superior 
to what has been spoken or written, short of direct and 
certified inspiration from on high; where he that will 
but reflect and is of good will, sees opened up vast vistas 
of light in confirmation of all that is true, all that is good, 
all that is noble and inspiring, in the history of the human 
race? Such a book is Ciudad de Dios, the English 
translation of which is heralded by ''O'er Oceans." 



227 



FEB 15 1909 



